


From Ashes

by Caedes12



Series: From Ashes [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Complete, F/M, Getting Together, Healer Draco Malfoy, Healer Hermione Granger, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Suicide Attempts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicide, Suicide of secondary character, child abuse in a case, some case work, witness of a suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 14:23:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 150,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11899614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedes12/pseuds/Caedes12
Summary: When Draco comes back for eighth year, he starts an unexpected friendship with Hermione Granger. Between his new friendship and his parents kicking him out of the house, Draco's life starts down a new path.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! This is my second Drarry fic. There will be multiple chapters, and I have more ideas than just the story too. We'll see if my ambition measures up. 
> 
> I took a vote on Insta to see if people wanted it to be uploaded all at once but much later once it was finished, or in chapters. And chapters won! One person voted, but that's neither here nor there. If you want to follow me, I'm Caedes12 on Instagram.
> 
> This is un beta'd so please be kind.

Draco stared out the window just watching the English countryside pass. Despite it being warm out, he couldn’t stop shivering. The train rattled on and he jumped when the door latch opened. He couldn’t quite believe it as Hermione Granger opened the door.

“There’s no more compartments open—do you mind?” She asked.

_Did he mind_? The right question was probably _could he say no_? There she was, Miss Golden Girl herself. He pushed the title aside immediately; he couldn’t call her that anymore. He lost. He needed to assimilate. He gestured to the open compartment and her shoulders relaxed as she sat down. She couldn’t have sat further away from him, but he didn’t take that as an insult. There was a reason why his compartment was open—people were terrified of him. Not without good reason, of course. He had fought for Voldemort. He spent the last three months in Azkaban. No one wanted to be around him. Draco didn’t pay attention to the rustling sounds.

“Malfoy?” Her voice was soft and he turned over to her. She was holding out half a chocolate bar, “I think you need it too.” She smiled a bit. He stared at the chocolate bar for a second and cautiously reached out. It was definitely a muggle chocolate bar, but he couldn’t exactly criticize that anymore, “Eat. You’ll feel better.” She promised. Somehow she had already managed to get four rolls of parchment out in the few minutes she had been there. She looked back at her notes, resuming the silence.

Draco stared at the chocolate in his hand. He frowned before turning to look out the window again. Had she poisoned it? Probably not. How would she have known to poison the chocolate? But why would she give this to him? Draco analyzed about a hundred different things before looking back down at the chocolate again. He concluded that it was probably safe to eat, but what did she want for it? She didn’t seem to want anything. Deciding he wanted the chocolate more than he cared about what she wanted back, he broke off a small piece and put it in his mouth. Nearly as soon as the chocolate hit his tongue, the feeling of despair left him. His breathing quickened a bit, looking down at the chocolate.

“Did you get out today?” She asked, looking at him. She must have been watching him the entire time behind her hair. It wasn’t fair it was so bushy to conceal her actions, “Of Azkaban.” She clarified when he didn’t say anything.

“This morning.” Draco answered. He had never been happier to see that fucking island get smaller in the distance. Fuck dementors. Fuck prison, “Mother did a cheering charm.”

“I found chocolate works best.” Granger said, her head bobbing.

Draco was silent for a moment, “Thank you.”

She was definitely surprised he had thanked her, her eyes got wide and she looked up at him, “You’re welcome.” Draco hadn’t realized how many people avoided eye contact with him until she stared at him full on. He bit into another piece of chocolate, “What classes are you taking?”

Civil conversation with Granger. Marvel of marvels. He _could do_ this. He sat back in his seat a bit, his hand pressing down his leg, “Potions, charms, arithmancy, ancient runes, transfiguration, and herbology. I have to get my NEWTs in them.”

Hermione nodded, “I’ll be with you for Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Potions, transfiguration and Charms—then I have DADA as well.” Draco nodded, the schedule made sense. Hermione bit her lip, “Y-you didn’t take your NEWTs last year?” It was getting into dangerous territory, but it skimmed enough where he didn’t have to delve deep if he didn’t want to.

“No one learned much of anything of NEWT consequence last year.” He answered. Hermione nodded solemnly, glancing down at her parchment.

“I’ve been trying to remember everything I forgot since I left.” Draco nodded in understanding, glancing back out the window.

He had another question and he nearly bit his tongue to keep it back, but he decided to ask it anyway, “Your friends aren’t coming?”

“Ron is working with George at the shop, so he told me he didn’t _need_ his NEWTs.” Draco could tell by the tone in her voice how much she disagreed with the Weasel, “And Harry took the auror position that Kingsley offered.” Draco nodded. So scarhead wouldn’t be back. Great. He thought it was a bit ridiculous the prick wouldn’t have to get his NEWTs, but he guessed scarhead could do whatever he wanted now, “Kingsley offered an auror position to everyone that fought in the Battle.” He felt vaguely guilty for his thoughts that Potter got a free pass.

“Your side—everyone that fought on your side.” Draco corrected.

Hermione blushed, “I—I guess so yes.” She frowned, “Would have made sense to ask you, Zabini and Goyle for advice.”

Draco nodded, “I would have had to tell them anyway.”

Hermione’s frowned deepened, “Kingsley’s looking at getting the dementors out of Azkaban.”

He shivered, “I hope I never have to see that for myself.” He felt cold just thinking about it, so he took another small bite of chocolate.

“Did you hear there will be just one dorm for the eighth years?” Draco shook his head, no one would have bothered to tell him anything. It was safer that way, “We’ll each have our own rooms.”

Draco nodded again, he was glad for that. Having his own sanctuary to retreat to would be perfect, considering he planned on putting his head down and getting through this year without pissing everyone off.

 

To the surprise of everyone including Draco, Granger and him became quite good friends through out the year. It probably had something to do with the fact that they had every single class together. He was glad to have one Slytherin come back to Hogwarts, Blaise Zabini. Draco had expected to coast through the year without friends, but suddenly he had two good friends that he didn’t know what to do without.

It was two months into school when Zacharias Smith called Granger a Death-Eater’s Whore for hanging out with Draco and Draco punching the shit out of him that Granger became _Hermione_. She was still dating the Weasel, and Draco didn’t see her like _that_ , but to call her that was still a horrible thing to say. Draco had broken a finger in his hand punching Smith’s thick head. Draco almost got thrown back into Azkaban for breaking his parole, but Hermione came to his defense. In the end McGonagall happened to lose the owl that stated Draco had broken his parole. She assured him the owl would not get lost again if he stepped out of line.

Draco never really wanted to rely on people before. But when his parents kicked him out at Christmas for refusing to marry Astoria, Blaise took him in without blinking. The only question Blaise asked was how his father had managed to come back from Azkaban, but three days home at Christmas had been negotiated into his sentencing. Blaise and Draco spent Christmas together, since Blaise’s mother had abandoned him for a new husband. They got drunk and ate too many cookies with the house elf. And despite all the turmoil, Draco was happy coming back to Hogwarts.

He dedicated himself to his studies as he wanted to go to be a healer. Healers already needed excellent NEWTs, but with Draco’s record he would need more than that. Hermione and Draco both got their acceptance letters the same day, pending their final NEWT scores. That was when Hermione sat him down and asked him to be her roommate post graduation. Draco was shocked she hadn’t wanted to live with her Weasel, but she said she was only eighteen and had no intention of moving in with Ron so young. At least until healing training was over, which was three years. The first year of healers school was in the classroom, the second two were in St. Mungos learning on their feet. Draco didn’t quite believe himself when he accepted her offer.

Ron hadn’t taken it well at first, but he came around eventually. Hermione kept telling Draco to be patient and she would make sure he was on board. It took time. Draco telling the Weasel he wasn’t interested in dating Hermione and then somehow the Weasel took that as insulting—so Draco had to assure him that it wasn’t anything to do with her blood status but just a person preference. The only relationship with a woman he had ever had was with Pansy, and while he may swing back toward women he didn’t see it in his near future. After he told the Weasel that, he backed down.

Hermione was the best roommate he had ever had. She was neat and perfectly willing to follow his insane need to organize every inch of the flat. It was also great to have someone in the same healers program. The asked each other questions and quizzed each other for better grades. And she was just as dedicated to studying as he was.

Her friends hardly ever came over to their apartment. Draco asked if she minded when he brought his friends, and she reminded him that his friends were her friends now too. Luna now was a shared friend, so were Blaise and Theo. But many of Hermione’s friends never came over. The Weasel would come over, but he hardly ever talked to Draco. They would move silently around each other if they were both in the kitchen, pretending the other didn’t exist. Draco didn’t have to deal with Potter at all. He was gallivanting all over the world as a spectacular auror. He would only come back for a week at a time, passing nods at Draco in Diagon Alley or the rare time he came over to the flat.

When residency in the hospital started, Draco learned how to do a lot on very little sleep but he loved it. One time after a particularly long shift, he stumbled back into his apartment. Hermione was just pulling on her healers robes for her shift. She scrunched up her nose when she saw him step through the floo.

“What happened?” She asked.

“Patient came in with boils that explode constantly and smell like cat piss.” Draco said with a sigh.

“Ew.”

“Yeah. Apparently his seven-year-old brother was sick of being beaten up, so it was accidental magic. Don’t really blame the kid, the kid covered in boils was a menace.”

“You would be too if you were covered in boils that smelled like cat piss.” Hermione said with a grin.

Draco scowled, “I knew you’d take the kid’s side.”

“See you in a few hours.” She said with a wave, stepping into the floo. Draco pulled off his gross robe and banished it to the washing machine. Another flick of his wand had it turned on and washing. His feet ached from being up all day, but he managed to shuffle to the kitchen and start to cook something. He was absolutely ravenous. He had been topping off his chicken tikka masala when there was a knock on the door. He frowned, wondering who it could be.

“Malfoy.” Potter looked a little bewildered, “Mione home?”

“No—she just started her shift. She’ll be back around five in the morning.” Potter was windswept and looked a bit more disheveled than he usually did. They were silently standing in the doorway for a moment, “You can come in.” Draco stepped aside, not really sure why he said that. Potter looked hesitant at first before stepping through the threshold. He immediately slipped off his boots, because Draco had chastised him more than once about tracking things in. When he took off his dragon hide boots, he revealed holey black socks. Draco rolled his eyes as he walked into the kitchen. Potter took off his black leather jacket, wincing before he hung it up. He had probably driven his awful motorbike to the flat, which explained his appearance a bit more. Draco turned around to see Potter and let out a small gasp.

“You’re bleeding.” Draco looked at Potter’s arm that had blood dripping down it.

“Yeah—I got nicked by a stray slicing hex.”

“Slicing hex? Where are you coming from?” Draco asked, moving to grab his wand. He turned down the pot to a simmer just to keep the chicken warm and checked the timer on his rice.

“An assignment.” Potter answered. Draco concentrated a bit more on his face and realized how exhausted Potter looked. The bags under his eyes were purple.

“Did you get the bad guy?” Draco asked.

“No, he escaped. Again. He’s a slippery bugger.”

“Yaxley?” Draco guessed, and Potter nodded. Draco moved Potter’s arm a bit, looking at the damage.

“Can you fix it?”

“Yeah.” Draco answered, “Just sit still for a moment.” Draco walked back into his bathroom to get some healing supplies. It took him a second to realize he and Potter had just had an entirely normal conversation. He let out a huff, grabbing his supplies in his hands before walking back out. Draco set down the bottles of potions on the counter, “You need something to eat.” He said sternly, walking back around the island to the cooktop to grab a plate.

“I—you don’t have to feed me.”

“You show up bleeding on my doorstep.”

“I was trying to show up on Hermione’s doorstep.” Potter argued, sounding amused. Draco served up some rice and the chicken, “Smells good—did you make it?”

“Yes.” Draco answered defensively, grabbing a piece of naan to give him before sliding him the plate.

Potter grinned, “I was only asking because Mione is not so good of a cook. Thank you.”

“Y-you’re welcome.” Draco stuttered, going over to the wound. He took some gauze and started cleaning it out. It wasn’t quite as deep as he first thought, “This will scar—even with the dittany.”

“Ok.” Potter said, taking a bite of his food. He groaned a bit, “Fuck this is good.”

“Thank you.” Draco said primly, “This will hurt a bit.” He put in the drops of dittany. The wound hissed as it began to mend, but Potter barely flinched. Draco cleaned around the wound and added an antiseptic before starting to bandage it. As he did, he noticed tattoos through Potter’s thin t-shirt. It sort of surprised him that after everything Potter would want to permanently mark his body, but Draco guessed artwork was better than a scar, “Keep it wrapped up. If it starts bleeding again, come back.”

“Yes Healer.” Potter said, taking another bite, “Fuck this is good—spicy too.”

“I like spicy. I set aside some for Hermione before I add too much spice because she hates it this way—but I like it.”

“How was your day at work?” Potter asked after a moment of silence. Draco grabbed his own plate for dinner. Draco raised an eyebrow at Potter.

“Are we having small talk?”

“Yes. It’s generally what people do when they see each other.”

“Potter—we’re not friends.”

“Hermione is my friend.” He countered.

“I know that.”

“Well—you two are friends. So if you two can be friends—might as well give it a go.”

Draco sat on the barstool next to Potter, “Alright. My day was fine. I worked in the walk in clinic today.”

“Hermione doesn’t particularly like those days. Says they’re difficult.” Potter said.

Draco nodded, “It’s not what I want to do long term. I realize why it’s beneficial, but I want to specialize eventually.”

“What in?” Potter asked.

“Dark Arts cases.” Draco admitted a bit reluctantly, not sure what Potter would say about that.

“Makes sense—you have knowledge in the field, practical knowledge too. Aurors would benefit from that.” He didn’t sound bitter about it either, which Draco took as a good sign, “Trying to convince Mione to go into that field too. But I think she likes the research side a bit too much.”

“It is difficult to pry her away from a book.” Draco agreed.

“Is that why you two get along? She just sits and reads.”

Draco actually chuckled a bit, “No—we’re both big readers though. We debate topics a lot—it’s good for both of us, I think. We’ve made it this far anyway.”

“You’ve lived together for nearly three years.” He pointed out, shoving more chicken on his naan and eating it with his fingers.

“There is silverware.”

“Indian is meant to be eaten with your hands.” Potter said with a cocky grin. Draco just scowled, “Have you been?”

“Where?”

“India.”

“Once—long time ago. I don’t remember it. I went with my parents, I think I was five.”

“I was there three weeks ago. It’s beautiful.”

“What exactly do you do for the ministry?” Draco asked before he could help it. He watched Potter freeze up, “Fine, I understand. I’m an ex-Death Eater.”

“No, it has nothing to do with that.” Potter huffed, “I’ve never told Mione what I do. It’s top secret.”

“Catching Death Eaters?”

“Amongst other things.” Potter said with a blush.

“Is this what you want to do forever?”

“No.” His response was strong, “I barely want to do it now. I want to be an auror, but I’d like to be home more often. When I started this job, it was good for me to travel but now—now I’d like to be in one place more often.”

“What’s stopping you?” Draco asked.

“Guilt mostly.” Draco wasn’t expecting that honest of an answer, and it didn’t look like Potter had expected it either, “Always more people in danger.”

“Ah—being a savior.”

“I think of it more as being selfish with my time if I don’t at least try to help people.”

Draco bit his lip and tried to keep from being condescending. He was sure this was a real struggle for the scarhead. He lived his whole life sacrificing for others, “I’m sure there’s people all over the world that need your help Potter—but there’s people here too. And your friends need you.” There was a rattling sound and Potter groaned, “What is that?”

“Robards. New head of the Auror Department.”

“He’s making the rattling sound?”

“No, this is.” Potter produced a tile, “It’s made with a Protean Charm. It’s how he calls me back into the office. He must have found out I finished this case.”

“You need sleep before you go back in.”

“Fuck off.” Potter grumbled.

“You look exhausted. And you’ve been injured. Rest isn’t unwarranted.” Draco snapped back.

“Could be something important.”

“It probably is.” Draco said, “but so is rest.” Potter scooped up more food, “Stop—stop! No need to shovel. I have Tupperware. You can take some with you.” Draco went to grab his plate but Potter grabbed it.

He flushed, “I’ll put it in the Tupperware.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, “I’m not going to do anything to it.”

“I didn’t think you were.” Potter told him, taking the box away from him, carefully moving his food from his plate, “I’m weird about food on my plate. It’s—I know it’s weird.”

Draco shrugged, watching as Potter very carefully placed every small bit of food from his plate into the container, “We all have our things, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Potter’s blush was still on his cheeks, so at least Draco knew the topic made him uncomfortable, “Thanks for stitching me up—and the food. I’ll return the favor one day.” He grinned.

“Stitching you up?” Draco asked.

“Oh—muggle phrase. Thanks for the arm.” Potter moved it slightly and it tightened the material of his t-shirt so Draco could faintly see another tattoo on his left pectoral, “Bye Malfoy!” He called as he walked out the door. Draco shook his head. What an odd situation.

 

Draco had slept through the night but woke up at five in the morning. His shift today was a bit later, but he had already slept his eight hours. He heard the floo, which meant Hermione had gotten home from her night shift so he walked out into the kitchen.

“Morning.” She said, pulling off her robes.

“How was the night shift?” Draco asked, pulling his robes out of the dryer and hanging them up to dewrinkle.

“Not too bad. Uneventful, actually.” She said, putting her robes in the wash and starting the machine.

“Potter came over last night.”

“You saw Harry?” She brightened considerably, despite her obvious fatigue, “I haven’t seen him in weeks.”

“I do not think this Robards person has the best intentions.” Draco said, turning on the skillet to make some eggs and pancakes.

“He is a bit demanding, I’ll give him that.”

Draco scowled, “It’s a bit more than that.”

Hermione bit her lip, “There’s just so much to be done.”

“And it’s _Potter_ to save the day.” Draco sneered.

“Why are you saying it like that?”

“Because the man could barely keep his eyes open while he was eating, had a sliced arm, and is clearly exhausted. Robards is working him to death.” Draco snapped, “I saw that in fifteen minutes. What the hell have you been looking at?”

Hermione scowled, “Harry would say something if he couldn’t take it.”

“That is absolute hippogriff shit.” Draco said, “As a healer, if you lose sight of being able to see your patient objectively, then you must reassign someone else.”

“I’m not Harry’s healer.”

“The principle still applies. You have lost sight of the fact that your friend is human. Just like the rest of us.” Hermione bit her lip, clearly trying to digest what Draco had said. It was still quiet when there was a knock on the door. Hermione got up and walked over to it.

“Harry!” She cried out, hugging him tightly. He gasped in pain so she immediately jumped back.

“What happened?”

“Cracked few ribs I think.” Potter said, stumbling into the flat, “Morning.” Potter looked a lot worse than he had even a few hours ago. Draco dished out the first round of pancakes and eggs and slid it over to Potter, “I’m fine. You eat first.”

“If you don’t eat it, I will shove it down your throat.” Draco told him. Hermione had run off to her bathroom to get healing supplies. She ran a few diagnostic spells, casting a healing spell that made Potter sigh with relief. Potter ate the next bite, and Draco watched him fall asleep sitting up. Hermione and Draco both watched him carefully that after thirty seconds or so he was up again, eating. Draco narrowed his eyes at Hermione—this was a classic sign of sleep deprivation. Potter was probably falling into microsleeps without realizing it.

“Harry, when is the last time you slept?” Hermione asked.

“I dunno.” His speech was a bit slurred.

“You are going to get some rest.” Hermione ordered.

“Ok.” Potter didn’t argue, “Sleep here?”

“Sure—why not at home?”

“Ron’s mad at me.” Potter said, his lids falling shut again.

“He sounds drunk.” Hermione said.

“It’s what happens after so little sleep.” Draco told her, “Put him in my room, my shift starts in a few hours anyway. That way he isn’t on the couch.”

Hermione looked up at him with eyes swirling with tears, “Thank you. I’ll wash everything. I promise.”

“You better.” He swore. Hermione spelled Harry’s sleeping body to float into his bedroom. He scrunched his nose at the idea of a dirty body in his bed, but he would get over it. Hermione better scrub his sheets. Especially if the wounds weren’t wrapped and blood got on them. Then she’d just have to buy him new sheets.

She walked back out into the kitchen, “I’m going to call Ron, see why he is angry.” Draco nodded, starting to eat his own breakfast. He was tapping out of this one. He did his duty. A few minutes later, the Weasel came through the floo.

“He’s here?” He sounded concerned for a man who was angry with his best friend.

“Yeah. He could barely talk and sit up right.”

“Yeah. It’s happened before.” The Weasel said angrily, “It’s happened so often, that I had a conversation with him about taking care of himself. And then he keeps fucking doing it. So he doesn’t want to come home when he’s like this because he knows I’ll get mad at him!” He was practically yelling by the end, so Draco shot a silencing charm at his room to keep Potter asleep.

“He’s working hard Ron.”

“He’s working himself to death Hermione!” The Weasel was yelling now, “And you’re encouraging him!”

“He just wants to help.”

“We all want to fucking help. Even Malfoy is fucking helping. But why does Harry have to kill himself to be more helpful than everyone else? Robards is not giving him time to recover—he’s guilt tripping him to traipsing all around the world. This has to stop!” There was a rattling sound and the Weasel made a scandalized sound, “See! There he goes again.”

Draco snatched the tile off the counter before Hermione could grab it. He sent the message and set it back down on the table.

“What did you say?” Hermione asked, her voice shrill.

“He’s under Healer’s orders to get a week off from traveling and seventy two hours bed rest.” Draco said calmly.

The tile rattled _He needs to be back within 24 hours_.

Draco scowled and sent another message. When Hermione took a breath to ask what he said, Draco answered, “This isn’t a negotiation. Seventy-two hours bed rest, one week from traveling. You’re lucky I’m not going to the Prophet with his overworked state.”

“Draco!” Hermione yelled.

“Thank you.” The Weasel let out a breath, “I doubt Harry will listen—but thank you.”

“What if someone else gets murdered?” Hermione asked, biting her lip.

Draco scowled, turning from his food, “Is there not someone _else_ in that entire auror department? I know it has been rough, but there has been four years since the war. He isn’t the _only_ auror on the force.”

“He’s one of the most senior members.”

“The others have to get experience somehow.” Draco countered instantly.

“But-but these are bad people.”

“You were in fifth year when you went off to the ministry to save Black. I’m not saying we should send fifth year Hogwarts students, but surely _trained aurors_ are better.” Draco snapped.

“But what if he slips away again!” Hermione countered.

Draco huffed, “You are so blinded by your need to save _everyone_ that you are putting your own friend at risk.”

Hermione turned to the Weasel, “Don’t look at me—I agree with Malfoy.” He blanched, “I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Truly such a momentous occasion means we are _right_.” Draco said to Hermione.

“I’m tired. I’m going to get some sleep and think about this in the morning.”

“Potter is not allowed out of this apartment until I come back and can reassess.” Draco warned her, then looked at Weasel.

“I’ll keep him here. Promise.” Weasel said.

“I’ll be back in at four this afternoon.” Draco said, grabbing his healer’s robes and slipping them on.

“Your bedside manner needs improving.” Hermione said.

“You’re not my patient.” Draco snapped back, truly angry with her for the first time since they started living together, “I don’t have to be nice to you at all. I’m here for the well being of my patient. You are here for the well being of someone else.” He glared at her a bit more before striding off into the floo.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco thinks over his anger.

It took an hour or so into his shift for him to feel guilty about how he spoke with Hermione. She was a bleeding hearted Gryffindor and getting angry only made her dig in her heals more.

“You alright Draco?” Nurse Sherry asked him. She had short-cropped hair and was in her mid fifties. Draco was sure to be nice to her since she was the head nurse. Piss her off and you could stab yourself in the foot and no one would blink to help you.

He let out a small sigh, “I had an argument with Hermione.” He admitted.

“Lovers quarrel?” She asked, her voice teasing. More than one person saw Hermione and Draco together and assumed they were dating—despite the fact that the Prophet would show pictures of her on dates with Ron every other week.

He scowled, “Roommate argument—well, it was actually a healer’s argument.”

“What was the argument?” She asked, sliding him over a cup of coffee. Draco took it gratefully.

“The patient hadn’t slept in too long—he was slurring his speech and having microsleeps. It has been consistently happening due to the nature of his job. I put him on seventy two hours rest and a week off of traveling.” He let out a sigh, “His job is important, so Hermione wants him back out as soon as possible.” He was sure Sherry could guess whom he was talking about, but she would never ask.

“Sounds like he needs a new boss.”

“That’s what I said. I’m used to not getting sleep sometimes, but this is nuts. He’s still a human.” Draco furrowed his brow, “I snapped at Hermione though—she wasn’t seeing things my way and I got angry instead of trying to find another way to explain.”

“It is adult of you to recognize that.” Sherry said.

“Malfoy—new case coming in!” Someone called, and he was off. This was a young girl who broke her arm. Her father was hovering over her.

“Good morning, let’s see what we have here.” Draco said, sweeping in. The Dad barely backed off a centimeter.

“She fell in the back yard.” He said quickly, “Off a swing.” Draco nodded, carefully moving her arm. The girl was thin with blonde hair; large tears were going down her face.

“What’s your name?” Draco asked.

“Rachel.”

“Rachel, my name is Draco. I’m going to set your arm—ok?” She nodded a bit fast. Draco took his wand over the left arm. The bones weren’t protruding the skin, but it still had a funny angle, “On the count of three—one. Two—” Draco cast the incantation. She gasped and more tears started streaming down her face as she sobbed. Her father pat her back. Draco was getting strange vibes from the father, he was too close to the situation, and he watched Draco too closely.

“Is that it?”

“No. We need to put a cast on the arm. The spells I’m running now keep the bone in place and speed up the mending process.” Draco smiled, trying to keep everyone at ease, “I’d like to run a few other tests, just to make sure everything is healthy.”

“Is that necessary?” The father asked, _fuck_.

“No, but I’d like to make sure everything is fine.”

“Just fix the arm.” The father said sternly.

“Ok.” He said easily, like that wasn’t a concern, “I’ll be back with what I need to wrap the arm—but she should be fine by tomorrow. I wouldn’t recommend going on the swing set again, but in three days time you will be as good as new.” Draco promised. Draco walked up to the supply cart, shooting a look at one of his other favorite nurses. The other healers seemed to have more of a problem with Draco being a Death Eater than the nurses did, but the nurses were better to be friends with anyway.

“What’s up?” John asked, he was an older nurse Draco liked, very practical and logical.

“You see the two I was working on earlier? The girl in the bed is Rachel. The Dad _claims_ she fell on the swing.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No.” Draco said flatly.

“You run more tests?”

“I tried to, but he refused.”

“That’s weird. Parents usually demand more tests to make sure their child is fine.” John said with a frown, easing around the cart and helping Draco grab materials, “You don’t have enough to report on.”

“So we’re just going to let them go?”

“We have to.” John said with a frown, “I’ll let you know if I see them in here again.”

Draco nodded before grabbing one last item. He walked back to Rachel’s bed. The Dad was staring at him. Draco wrapped up the arm slowly, taking his time if only to piss of the Dad.

“Now if there is any pain by the end of the week, you need to come back and see me. Alright?” Draco looked at Rachel, her bright green eyes staring at him. They were a bit too wise for someone so young, they had seen too much.

“Ok.” She answered him. Draco smoothed the end of the bandage, binding it closed with a spell.

“That should do it.” Draco said.

“Thank you Healer.” Rachel said softly.

“You’re welcome.” Draco replied, pulling out his script pad, “I am giving you a prescription for some pain potions.”

“Strong ones?” The father asked, his eyes looking eager.

“Not too strong. With her size and stature, that wouldn’t be recommended. This pain med is like the one you can buy in any apothecary— it’s just a bit more concentrated.” Draco told him, handing him the script. Like he would give an eight year old something she could get high off of? Was this guy nuts? The father grunted.

Draco watched them walk out of the building, frowning as he did.

“I’ll watch for them to come back in.” Sherry said, “John told me you were not liking the look of that father.”

“I have nothing to go on other than my gut.” Draco told her, but Sherry nodded.

“I’ll still stay on the lookout.”

 

Draco was very glad when the end of his shift hit. His feet were aching. It was a little after four thirty when he dragged himself to the floo. He was a bit wary on what he would find at home.

He walked out of the floo, pulling off his healer’s robes at the same time. He sent them to the washer. Potter was sitting on one of the barstools, reading a book.

“I didn’t know you could read.”

Potter looked over to him, “I like reading when it isn’t assigned.”

“Hermione is?”

“She went to the grocery store.”

“How mad is she at me?”

“I think you and Ron are both in the dog house.” Draco let out a sigh, going to the teapot, “It should still be hot, I just made a pot.” The tile was out on the island.

“Has he rang?” Draco asked.

“No, which I find odd.” Potter said with a sigh.

Draco frowned, “He did last night, but I told him to bugger off.”

Potter looked up in shock, “Someone could have needed my help.”

“You were help to no one in your state. I told him seventy-two hours rest and a week off from traveling. Healer’s orders.”

“B-but—

“There are other aurors in the department.” Draco told him, repeating the same argument as Draco turned on the cooktop. He liked his tea burning hot.

“They’re young.”

“They have to cut their teeth somehow.” Draco let out a sigh, “What if one of the aurors _wants_ to go on a bigger mission, but has never been allowed because Saint Potter has always had priority.”

Potter frowned, “I never thought of it that way.”

“They don’t call for me on every healer case with Death-Eaters, despite my knowledge. It is beneficial that _everyone_ learn.” Potter ran his hands over his face then gripped his mug of tea.

“But what if something bad happens because I’m not there?”

“What if something bad happens because you are too exhausted to react quick enough?” Draco countered, pouring the water from still whistling pot into his mug.

“These are good arguments.” Potter was looking down at his tea.

“I am a reasonably intelligent person.” Draco let out a breath, “Are you—do you want to be an auror?”

Potter looked up at him sharply, “Of course!” He sounded angry.

“You don’t have to be, you know—if you don’t want to.” Draco tried to back off slowly.

Potter pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh, “I love my job—I think that’s why I’m so willing to run myself ragged. Not just because of my savior complex.”

Draco grinned, “It’s nice to hear you say you have a savior complex. The first step in accepting a problem is admitting you have one.”

“I’m not admitting it’s a problem—just that I have the complex.” That made Draco laugh.

“Well it’s time you start showing your backbone to your boss.” Draco told him, “They’re not going to fire _Harry Potter_.”

“I just don’t want to be the person that uses my name to get everything.”

“Right now Robards is using your name to get what he wants. It’s not on accident he sends you to be the foreign emissary.” Potter frowned, “And, if you’re really worried about your job, threaten to quit and go into the private sector. You’ll make a shit ton more anyway.”

“I’m not in it for the money.”

Draco sighed, “So you take a few high profile cases a year to balance your budget for those that can’t—people do this all the time.”

“I’d rather not do that.”

Draco made an exasperated sound, “I’m not saying you have to Potter—I’m saying to use your backbone, know you have other options, and get some reasonable fucking hours.”

Potter let out a slow breath, “You’re right.”

Draco smirked, “You want to write that down and sign it? I want proof you thought I was right.”

Potter scowled, “No need to be an arse about it.”

“I’ll just pull the memory in case I ever run into a pensieve. Just to watch it.” Draco grinned, and despite his scowl there was a twitch of Potter’s lips. Hermione opened the door and Draco turned to see her arms full of groceries. He was quick to grab a bag, putting it on the island.

“Thanks. I used a lightening charm, but it was hard to do all of the bags without muggles noticing.” She heaved a bit, “How long have you been home?”

“A couple minutes.”

“And no fights between you two? The flat hasn’t burned down.” She teased as she started putting things away.

“Potter is my patient. Getting in an argument would be counter productive to his recovery.” Draco said airily and Hermione snorted.

“I’m right here.” Potter said flatly.

“Draco—I decided you were right when it comes to Harry.” Hermione said with a sigh. This is why the two of them got along, both of them were willing to admit mistakes. Hermione came out and apologized—Draco would usually made dinner and one of his famous desserts.

“Three for three with the Golden Trio admitting I was right today. This must be some sort of record. Do I get a gold plaque? A parade in my honor? An Order of Merlin?”

“Stop being so dramatic.” Hermione chastised.

“A tiger can’t change its stripes.” Potter said wryly. Draco stuck up his nose, refusing to comment. His reaction must have amused Potter because he snorted.

“What’s for dinner?” Draco asked, changing topics.

“I’m making tonight.” Potter said excitedly. Draco raised an eyebrow, “I’m a good cook!”

“You weren’t good at potions.” Draco accused.

“I got an E on my O.W.Ls—thank you very much. And cooking is nothing like potions. Potions is exact—cooking is about feeling.”

Draco scowled, “There are precise ingredients while cooking.”

“Maybe for you.” Potter told him and Draco turned to Hermione.

“He is a very good cook.” She confirmed.

“Better than me?” Draco was horrified.

“Your desserts are much better.” Hermione said with a laugh, “But it depends on the dish. Not everything is a competition gentlemen.” Draco scowled, “But you both make things too spicy.”

“You are confusing spice with _spicy”_ Potter argued.

“What _are_ we having for dinner tonight?” Draco asked, looking at Potter.

“Like seafood?”

“Shouldn’t you have asked before you had Hermione pick up food?” Potter just glared at him, “I like seafood.”

“Perfect.” Potter hopped up, “Then I have some cooking to do.”

Draco opened a bottle of white wine as Potter began cooking. They both had off the next day, though Draco was on call if things got crazy. Hermione smiled as she drank.

“I should have turned this cooking thing into a competition.” She said with a sigh, “Then you two would cook for me and I could judge.”

Potter laughed as he moved around the kitchen, “Well, there’s still time.” The smells filled the kitchen and Draco breathed deep.

“How was your shift?” Hermione asked.

“I got a potential abuse case—little girl came in with a broken arm. The father _said_ she fell.”

“She never told her side?”

“No.”

Hermione sighed, “Muggles have a better system in place—if you even get a funny feeling you can call it in.”

Draco sighed, “But I need proof, and I didn’t get it. The Father didn’t allow me to run tests.”

“You can always tell an auror.” Potter suggested, “We might not be able to do much, but we also can swing by their house. We can’t go in, but anything we see in plain sight could warrant a—well, warrant—then we could go in.” He grinned.

Draco nodded, “I’ll look at their name on the forms. See if I can get an address.”

“These policies really should be changed.” Hermione said with a sigh.

“One goal at a time.” Draco said dryly, turning to Potter, “She should have gone to school for law.”

“She still can—she’s only twenty one.”

“Muggles at my age haven’t even started to study to be a doctor yet—unless they’re exceptionally brilliant.” Hermione told him.

“What do they do between eighteen and whenever they start studying to be a doctor?” Draco asked, scandalized.

Hermione giggled, “University—depending on the program it’s generally four years of school post high school graduation—high school is eighteen like Hogwarts.”

“Oh—what do they learn at the University.”

“Depends on what you want to learn.” Potter told him, “You can learn more about any specialty. You can try to be a dentist, like Mione’s parents. You can be an engineer to help build bridges and roads and such. You can learn to be on the telly. Muggle businesses—all sorts of stuff.”

“You go to school to learn how to run a business?”

“Sort of.” Hermione said with a scrunched up nose, “Muggle companies have thousands of people working in them. So you could go to school just to learn to be a part of a business. Muggle money business are massive as well—it’s like working for Gringotts but everyone is human.”

“They have the same problems we do though—business staying within families rather than promoting on skill sometimes leads to terrible business decisions.” Potter said.

“You’re saying if I took my father’s business it would be a terrible business decision?” Draco asked, seething a bit.

“I have no doubt you would run it very well Malfoy.” Potter said with a roll of his eyes, “You are a hard worker. But sometimes money leads to—expectation. And that leads to people _expecting_ something rather than having the _opportunity_ to achieve it.”

“Oh—like how Dermtree expects everyone to treat him like a great Healer just because his dad was one.”

“Exactly.” Hermione said.

“I have no idea who that is, but sure.” Potter said with a shrug.

“Arse who was in our healing classes—and is now at St. Mungo’s with us. The only reason he got his spot is because his father is on the board.”

Hermione shook her head, “It’s nothing short of a miracle he hasn’t killed someone yet. Have you met his father?” Draco shook his head, “Actually a very reasonable man. I think he gives his son too much leeway. There’s a lot of guilt in that relationship.”

“Well at least his father isn’t a murderer. And look at me? I turned out great.” Draco said.

Potter snorted, “Isn’t a bit too early to say that?”

“No.” Draco said with a frown, “I turned out great. Top healer in my class.”

“ _Barely_.” Hermione said.

“Barely still counts!” Draco said excitedly.

“Malfoy beat you?” Potter asked, sounding appalled.

“His average was higher than mine—you could argue I took harder classes.” Hermione said with a scowl, “You _purposefully_ chose easier classes your first semester.”

“Not my fault you didn’t plan ahead.” Draco argued, Potter laughed.

Draco was surprised how easy conversation was with Potter as he cooked dinner. And he wasn’t afraid to admit that Potter’s dinner was _fantastic._ He made an excellent sea bass over quinoa rice pilau with roasted tomatoes. The pine nuts in the mixture had been done to perfection, and the fish practically melted in his mouth.

“Where’d you learn to cook like this?” Draco asked, they had moved around the kitchen table. Hermione had lit some candles and the final bit of the sun was shining through the windows.

“I started cooking when I was young.” Potter answered, “I didn’t like it that much then—but once I moved out I found myself enjoying it again.”

“Is that when you’re weird relationship with food started?” Draco asked. A door slamming shut would have been less obvious than Potter’s facial expression. It was like he shut down entirely.

“Don’t talk about stuff you know nothing about.” Hermione told Draco, “It’s uncouth.”

“You use my own phrasing against me?” Draco asked.

“I do. Harry made us a nice dinner. Enjoy it.”

“I meant no offense Potter.” Draco said, eating another bite, “Your food is quite delicious. But I think I have a recipe that could beat it.”

Potter relaxed a bit, “I do too—this was on short notice.”

“I make a mean flank steak.”

“I do too.”

“Well, the only way to solve this is to have a competition.” Hermione said with a sigh.

Draco snorted, “That was about as subtle as a flying octopus.”

“I’m sorry I’m not a trained Slytherin.” Hermione said with a giggle. The floo went off and the Weasel stumbled out.

“What? You made dinner and didn’t invite me?” He sounded horrified as he walked to the table, then he scrunched his nose, “Sea bass. Gross.”

“That’s why I didn’t make you any. There’s chicken in the fridge and more of the quinoa rice pilau.”

“Excellent.” The Weasel dashed off into the kitchen.

“Do I get to see the sacred Golden Trio Rituals now?”

“Yes. We sacrifice Death Eaters on an alter for House Elf Rights, so I’m glad you could make it.” The Weasel retorted. Potter and Hermione were tense, waiting for Draco’s reaction.

“I’m a _reformed_ Death Eater, Weasel. If you sacrifice me it would be in vain.” Draco said, and both Potter and Hermione visibly relaxed

Weasel let out a sigh, “I guess we’ll have to wait for Harry to bring in another one.” He glared at Potter, “But you’re still not allowed to go into work yet.”

“I’m feeling refreshed.” Potter said.

“Seventy-two hours Potter.” Draco said sternly, “And one week off from traveling.”

“I thought you said forty-eight?” Draco threw his napkin at Potter.

“I’m not above knocking out a patient for his or her wellbeing.” Draco told him, “Give me my napkin back.”

“Mine now.” Potter said, keeping it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter you say? Holla at ya girl.

After a remarkably pleasant dinner, Draco didn’t see much of Potter around. He went back to work and assumedly traveling the world, so Draco wasn’t too surprised. It was nearing the end of Draco’s third year of healer training, so he started the application process to specialize. Each healer specialty had a different process, but Draco was familiar with the Dark Arts application process because he had spent nearly an entire year ingratiating himself to the healer in charge. The Healer’s name was Winston Park. Unfortunately for Draco, Park saw right through the brown nosing, so he had to win it on merit alone. He was in his fifties, divorced, with two kids so he worked nearly all the time. He would only be taking two residents in the fall, and Draco was determined to be one of them.

He was down in the emergency entrance of the hospital, running through flashcards on a slow night. His feet were propped up on the desk.

“It’s like you had no upbringing at all.” Sherry said with a sigh.

“I’m rebelling against my upbringing, I’ll have you know. I figure most people would approve.” She flicked his ear and Draco flinched, “OW!”

“You big baby.”

“That hurt.”

There was a loud crack of someone apparating and a shake form the force of it.

“Malfoy!” Draco would recognize that voice anywhere. He was instantly up on his feet and he saw Potter’s panic expression looking down at a body. It was of a young auror. Draco was up and around the desk. Potter had apparated the young auror in the middle of the emergency room. There was blood on his robes.

“Get him up on the bed.” Sherry demanded as no less than four people surrounded the patient.

“On my count.” Draco said soundly, “Three—two. One.” The team moved as one unit, levitating the body seamlessly up onto a bed. Draco fired as many quick healing and stasis charms as he could before turning to Potter, “What was he hit with?”

“I don’t know.” Potter was staring at the auror in the bed.

“Look at me Potter.” Draco demanded, but Potter didn’t move. Draco grabbed Potter’s arm and he flinched, turning to Draco, “What did the spell look like?”

“Black vines—gross black vines. Fuck they were everywhere.”

“Was anyone else with you two?”

“No—just us.” Potter said.

“I need you to go with that nurse, get checked out.”

“What about Kapped?” Potter asked.

“I got him. Go with John.” Draco encouraged, before turning back to Kapped. Draco felt the panic swell up in him. The man’s body was turning black, starting at his finger tips. It was slow moving, but Draco was sure it was going to devour him, “We need to get him back in a private room—this will not be pretty.”

“Are—do you know what it is?” Sherry asked.

“Yeah—Dark Arts curse. Fell out of fashion during the first war. Messy. If we don’t move quick he is going to explode in a blob of black viney goo—and whomever that goo leaches onto will be exposed.” Draco said, “We got to move him. Now.” He started pushing the cart.

“Are you sure?” Another nurse asked, “Healer Park can come in—

“We don’t have time.” Draco said, watching the black move up quickly, “Come on!” He pushed the bed himself, and suddenly people were helping him. The black had moved up Kapped’s arm, his fingertips completely black.

“Bloody hell.” A nurse whispered.

Draco turned to her, “The spell is going to spew the black liquid out onto the floor. You make sure it doesn’t touch anyone. Got it?”

“Yes Healer.” She said with a sure nod.

“You’re going to need to hold him down.” Draco told Sherry.

“Pain meds?”

“It will interfere with the spell.” Draco told her. Sherry climbed up on top of the man, pinning his arms down with her legs, “Kapped?” Kapped turned to him with wide brown eyes, “This is going to hurt.”

“Fucking hurts now!” He screamed.

Draco murmured the incantation. The black liquid shot out of Kapped like a cannon, dousing the side of the room. The young nurse was quick to contain it. The liquid wiggled and moved like it was trying to latch onto another host. Kapped bucked and _screamed_ with pain. Sherry kept him down.

Draco cut off the spell, making sure the black goo was contained. Once the nurse nodded to him, he did the spell again. Kapped screamed, but it cut off abruptly as he passed out with the pain of it. The black goo seemed more pitiful this time. Draco saw that Kapped’s hand was nearly clear of black. So he cut off the spell, waited a moment and did it one last time. The last of the black goo seeped from Kapped’s fingertips just as the door opened.

“Healer Malfoy, what spell did you use?” Healer Park asked, buttoning up his healer robes. Draco gave him a detailed description of what just happened, and Park nodded along with him. He came up to Kapped, inspecting his fingers.

“Good. Good. Keep him here two days for observation, in case the blackness hasn’t left him completely. It likes to cling.” Healer Park said, “But well done Healer Malfoy.”

“Thank you sir.” Draco said with a breath of relief, not realizing he was shaking until that very moment. It was then that he remembered Potter—Potter who had blood on him but Kapped wasn’t bleeding, “ _Fuck_.” He moved quickly, “Sherry? You got this?”

“Yes Healer Malfoy. He’s stabilized, I’ll move him to the Dark Arts floor.” Sherry answered immediately.

“Thank you.” Draco said, pushing out the door. He ran down the hall into the emergency room and didn’t see Potter at a glance so he ran to the desk, “The auror that came in here earlier with Kapped?”

“John took him to his own room.” The nurse said, flipping her magazine lazily.

“Room number?”

“Twelve eleven.” Draco was running off before she had finished. Dark Arts floor. Perfect. He ran to the elevator, hitting the button a million times before it opened. He jumped in and hit the right floor, slamming the button a hundred times again. The doors opened and he ran down the hall to the right room.

“Potter?” He called out in the doorway, he was lying on a bed without his shirt on, two slices on the side his chest and one on his left arm.

“Kapped alright?” He asked immediately.

“Yeah. We have to keep him for observation, but he should make a full recovery. I knew the spell. Cleansing him of it was horrible, but he should be fine.” Potter relaxed immediately. Draco took the opportunity to look at the tattoo on his chest. It was of a stag, lilies woven into his antlers. Part of it was covered by the bandage.

“Did the cut go through—” Draco dragged off, pointing at his own chest for reference.

“No! Didn’t hit Prongs.” Potter said with a smile, “Got awful close, but he moved in time.” The stag shook his antlers a bit.

“You named your tattoo Prongs?”

“It’s a long story.” Potter told him.

“What curse were you hit with?” Draco asked.

“Sectumsempra—dodged most of it but it managed to catch me here.” Potter said.

“Well, I can’t say you shouldn’t have seen that coming back around.” Draco said before he could help it. He was shocked when Potter laughed. He sat down in the chair by his bed.

“I guess I deserved it—hurts like a son of a bitch.”

“You reported this to Robards?”

“Yeah.” Potter nodded, “I told him not to put me with Kapped.”

“Why?”

“He’s terrible. Trips over his own feet.”

Draco scoffed, “Not everyone grew up chasing Dark Lords.”

“I know—but there _are_ competent aurors. He put me with Kapped because he thought I could cover for his shortcomings. The problem was that they put me on more dangerous cases—

“And he was put in more dangerous positions because of it.” Draco finished.

“Yeah.”

“So it’s Robards fault he is here.”

“Yes.” Potter growled, “I tried to keep Kapped back, but he walked into the room without clearing it first. Goddamn giddy and wanted to be a fucking hero.”

“I think he learned his lesson.”

Potter let out a sigh, “Fuck—you’re right. I’m being a prick.” Potter looked in the doorway to stare at something, so Draco turned to look in the doorway.

“Potter—this is Healer Winston Park, he’s in charge of the Dark Arts floor. Healer Park—this is Potter.”

“Would it kill you to say my first name?” Potter asked with a smile.

Draco turned up his nose, “It might, I’m disinclined to find out.”

“Pleasure to meet you Mr. Potter.” Healer Park said cautiously.

“Harry is fine.” Potter said with an easy grin.

“Is everything alright in here?” Healer Park gave a sideways look to Draco, and Draco instantly prickled. Did Park think he would hurt Potter?

“Yeah! I’m in good hands. Malfoy helps put me back together when I don’t want to come here.” He had a careless grin on his face like he didn’t know what Park was asking. But Draco knew those eyes well enough to know Potter knew _exactly_ what Park had asked.

“You go to Healer Malfoy’s home?” Park asked.

“He lives with Hermione—not too far from Ron and I. About a ten minute walk.”

“We’ve lived in the same place three years now—just resigned our lease.” Draco said softly, looking at his hands.

“Healer Malfoy, come see me before your shift ends.”

“Yes sir.” Healer Park walked out the door and Draco clenched his hands.

“Malfoy—” Potter said, right before the glass picture on the wall shattered from Draco’s latent magic.

“Shit.” Draco jumped away from the glass, casting a quick charm to repair it, “I don’t think I’ve done that since I was—well, back in school.” Draco hung the picture back up.

It fell quiet again, “Give him hell when you see Park later. The guy’s a twat.”

“I want him to hire me next year.” Draco said, running his fingers through his hair.

“Then give him hell in a respectful manor. I just learned how to show a little backbone to my boss if you want tips.”

“Fuck you.” Draco said with a grin.

“You know, what goes around comes around.” Potter said, and Draco snorted.

“I should get going on my rounds—but I’ll be here in case you need anything.”

“Has my next of kin been notified that I’m here?”

“I’m sure the nurses sent owls to Hermione—but her shift starts soon so she might be napping before she’s on call. Either way she’ll be in here soon”

“Ron gets one too.” Harry sighed, “But neither one of them come running unless it says DIRE on top. I’m in here too frequently otherwise.”

“This is what my tax dollars go to—Potter’s medical bills.”

“You’re welcome.” Potter said with an arrogant grin. Draco rolled his eyes before walking out of the hospital room.

 

He had played it off in Potter’s room, but the conversation with Healer Park had really hurt Draco. Draco kept going over it in his head as he went through the day. It hurt worse that Draco had respect for Healer Park. And here Park just thought he was a Death Eater that snuck into the Healer program. At the end of Draco’s shift, he walked to Park’s office.

“Healer Malfoy.” He said formally.

“You asked to see me.” Draco stood behind one of the chairs in his office. The office had dark objects in it, all incased in glass.

“I want to apologize for the way I spoke to you earlier.” Healer Park said, “You’ll have to forgive my assumptions. I thought you wanted to go into Dark Arts Healing to be close to your past. It seems you want to because of your past, just a little different way than I thought.”

“I have extensive knowledge on the Dark Arts. It would be foolish not to use it to my advantage.” Draco said.

“How did you know the spell used today?”

“It fell out of style the first time the Dark Lord tried to take over.” Draco crossed his arms over his chest, “A Death Eater used it to torture a muggle and the muggle exploded black goo all over him. He died from the resulting goo. Death Eaters like to be messy, but not to their own harm.”

Healer Park nodded, “I knew they didn’t use it anymore, but not the why.”

“Is my past going to be a problem for you?” Draco asked point blank.

“It is, but I hope to move past it. I’m muggle born.”

“I live with a muggle born. I’m not the twat I was in Hogwarts—not that you knew me then either.”

“Your relationship with Harry Potter is curious.”

“If you’re going to give me a chance just because I know _Potter—”_

“Not because of him—well, maybe in part. But more because of your motivations behind your friendship with him.”

Draco snorted, “We’re not friends. Don’t read into that more than what it is. I am a healer. He is my patient.”

“Not today.”

“Well fine—today he wasn’t _my_ patient. But if I didn’t check on him my roommate would kill me.”

Healer Park raised an eyebrow, “Fine.” He let out a breath, “I will carefully consider your application, Healer Malfoy.”

“You and I both know I could make a significant difference on this floor.” Draco said before he could think better of it, “You just have to be willing to give me a chance despite my actions at sixteen years old.” Draco turned out of the room, shaking.

That was sort of stupid to say.

And very Gryffindor of him.

He needed to stop hanging out with so many Gryffindors.

Despite that thought, Draco’s feet carried him to Potter’s room. He wasn’t surprised to find him still sitting there.

“Hey” He perked up.

“Did Hermoine stop by? Her shift started two hours ago.”

“Yeah. She stopped in.” Potter confirmed, “How’d it go with Healer Park?”

“He thought you and me were _friends_.” Draco sneered, sitting down.

“Well I hope you corrected him.” Potter said with a smile.

“You’re mocking me. I’ve been on my feet ten hours. I can’t deal with this right now.” Draco said as he plopped down in the chair, putting his feet up on Potter’s bed. He groaned as he lay back, closing his eyes, “I mouthed off like a fucking Gryffindor. I blame you for that.”

“Shows backbone.” Potter said, amusement in his tone. Draco couldn’t see him, but knew he was smirking.

“I was supposed to use my Slytherin wiles to get a job.” Draco said.

“Maybe it’s both.”

“Shut the fuck up with your interhouse cooperation bullshit.” Draco announced and Potter laughed. It was a full body laugh that made Draco feel light inside, and he peaked open an eye to look at him.

“Do you know when they’re going to let me out of here?”

“Not until dinner at least.” Draco said, closing his eyes again.

“Dinner time like 5?”

Draco snorted, “What kind of grandpa are you? No one eats at five in the afternoon. Around eight.” Draco let out a breath, “Did the aurors come in to see Kapped yet?”

“Yeah. Robards hasn’t been in yet.” Potter sighed, “I’ll be on desk duty for a few days. But at least I’ll be out of the fucking heat.”

“Heat?” Draco asked, looking to Potter who blushed.

“You didn’t hear that. That was not a tip of my location.”

“It’s—how far did you apparate to get here?” Draco asked, “You could have splinched yourself! And your partner! That was dangerous!”

“I couldn’t risk going to a local hospital.” Potter said, “It was in all the materials.”

“So apparate to France! Germany! Fuck Potter.”

“I was freaking out! I could focus on St. Mungo’s as a destination.” Potter argued.

“B-but—you don’t to say where you were—but that has to be far.”

“I’m good at apparating.” Potter said softly, “Sort of had to learn in a desperate situation—so I’m good at it now. Fucking hate using the floo.”

“Can you go across the ocean?”

“Never tried.” Potter admitted, “Mione won’t allow me.” He grinned. Draco always knew Potter was powerful, but this seemed a bit surreal, “But she’ll be mad at me if she figures out I apparated here—she probably will figure it out soon. I think she won’t be pleased I apparated across the Mediterranean.”

“I won’t tell her.”

“Thanks.”

“Not for you, mind you. She’ll probably hit the first person that tells her out of instinct.” Draco chatted with Potter for awhile, and didn’t really think about his eyes drooping shut.

 

Draco’s eyes fluttered open.

“How long was I out?” Draco asked Potter.

“Thirty minutes?” Potter said, looking to the clock, “Maybe.”

“Good—I’m going home.”

“Making me dinner?” Potter asked.

Draco scoffed, “Why would I do that?”

“Come on. I got injured!”

Draco pretended to consider it, but he was sort of eager to show Potter what he was capable of in the kitchen. He could tell Potter was eager as well. Scrunching up his nose, Draco declared, “Dinner’s at eight—tell Mione. She’ll be off by then too.”

“Ok.” Potter said excitedly.

“Bring wine.” Draco ordered, walking out, then walked back in, “On second thought, don’t. I’m not sure what you’ll bring.”

“I have excellent taste.” Potter said.

Draco held up his finger, “You get one chance.”

“I won’t disappoint!” Potter said as Draco walked out the door.

 

Draco made a steak marinade since he had the time before dinner. Hermione and Potter stumbled in a few minutes apart from one another. Potter carrying a bottle of wine.

“Someone tell Ron—he’ll kill me if we have steak without him.” Potter said.

“I get to invite a Slytherin at some point!” Draco said, pouting, “I’m sick of all this Golden Trio nonsense.”

“I’m sorry you feel inadequate without your cronies.” Potter said with mock seriousness.

“You come hang out with my friends and see how you feel.”

“Done.” Potter said, Hermione let out an exacerbated sound.

“Not _everything_ is a competition!” Hermione said.

“Yes it is.” Potter and Draco said at the exact same time.

“You two should stop hanging out with each other. It’s dangerous.” Hermione said, turning to the floo to get the Weasel.

Potter was liberal with his praise, asking for the recipe during dinner. And Draco couldn’t help but preen a bit. But then they got into the specific cooking methods, which turned into several debates. Draco didn’t realize Hermione and Ron had left them to themselves.

“Think they’re having sex?” Draco asked, pointing to Hermione’s closed door.

“I don’t like to think about that at all.” Potter scrunched his nose.

“I have dessert in the fridge—

“Yes please.” Potter answered, “Firewhiskey?”

“Sure.”

“Want to go out on the porch—I’ll put out a warming charm.” Draco nodded, leaving Potter to it. He went to the fridge and got out the icecream and brownies, serving for two. Walking out to the porch, Draco handed Potter a large piece of brownie with vanilla ice cream. Potter pointed to the firewhiskey on the small table. The large whicker chairs were the perfect height to overlook the city. Draco bundled up a bit. “Sorry, my warming charms aren’t as good as Mione’s.”

“I don’t think anyone’s are.” Draco said.

Potter was looking up at the stars, “Where’s your constellation?”

“Uh—right there.” He pointed it out.

“How’s your Mum?”

“Doing pretty well. My parents live in France now, but I don’t talk to them.”

“Oh—I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Draco let out a breath, “I assumed Hermione told you.”

“She doesn’t like to tell other people’s secrets.”

“Yes, I know that—but it’s _you_.” Draco let out a huff, “I got into a fight with my parents at Christmas my eighth year at Hogwarts. They kicked me out.”

“Merlin—I had no idea.”

“Yeah—They wanted me to marry Astoria Greengrass.” Draco let out a harsh breath, “I said no.”

“Fucking hell.” Potter sputtered, “That’s fucking ridiculous. Why?”

“Why’d I say no?”

“Why’d they want you to marry Astoria?”

“Restore the family name and what not.” Draco waved his free hand before taking a sip of his firewhiskey.

“How would that work?”

“Astoria is pureblood, not associated with the war.” Draco scoffed, “I believe my father said _tangled_. Like my family had accidentally entangled ourselves with the Dark Lord.” Draco shook his head, “I just snapped. Told them fuck no and ran off to Blaise’s. My father gave me a small fortune as a parting gift, said I’d come crawling back in a few months—and that was three and a half years ago.”

“But you know how your mum is doing?”

“She sends letters. Let’s me know she’s doing all right. Keeps sending me names of other possible matches.”

“You don’t want to marry them?”

“No. I even like Astoria—nice girl. But—I’m making decisions for myself now. I’m sure I could be happy with her—but I want to choose someone for me.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Potter said, sipping his firewhiskey, “it’s not the same at all—but Ginny and I were under a lot of pressure to get together right after the war. Mione and Ron did—so everyone kinda expected Ginny and I to do the same thing and ride off into the sunset.” Draco was quiet as Potter let out a breath, “We weren’t good for each other. Too much guilt, too much blame.”

“What for?” Draco couldn’t help but ask.

“I left her behind seventh year. She resented being left behind—she couldn’t accept the fact that despite being alone with Mione for months, we did _not_ have a sexual relationship.” Potter let out a sigh, “Anyway, we broke up eventually. It was hard on the family to have me around again for awhile. Ron had to pretend to be mad at me for a few weeks.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“It was—but she’s dating Neville now—so all is well.”

“I heard they were dating—I still hang out with Blaise a lot.” Blaise and Neville had gone into business together. Their eighth year at Hogwarts had lead to a good relationship. Blaise was the business side, Neville the plants. Neville hadn’t come around to Draco yet—which was fair enough. Draco had treated him like shit.

“Well—either way I’m glad it didn’t work out with Ginny.” Potter said, sipping more whiskey, “I found out more about myself this way.”

“Oh?” Draco asked, his interest peaked.

Potter snorted, “Not a secret, Malfoy. I didn’t know I liked men until after I broke up with Ginny.”

“What? You didn’t always know?” Draco was appalled.

“I think because I liked women, and had a lot of shit going on, I never had to really look into my attraction to men. Then one night I was drunk at a muggle club with Luna and—well, I learned. I totally freaked out and ran away from him. Luna got me through it, thank Merlin, calmed me down. Then I told the Weasley’s three days later that I was bisexual.”

“So soon?”

Potter frowned, “George was testing his new truth rum—they sell it at their store. It’s basically watered down veritaserum so it’s legal—and it’s on the warning labels. Anyway, I drank it. But this one wasn’t as watered down as what it is now—and I didn’t know I was drinking it, so I didn’t know to fight it. I blurted it out within three minutes of drinking it.”

“First dude you had sex with?”

“Lee Jordan—you?”

“Theo Nott.”

“First girl?”

“Pansy—I don’t need to ask yours.”

“No.” Potter agreed, taking another sip of whiskey.

“This isn’t truth whiskey—is it?” Draco looked down.

Potter snorted, “No—this is from your stash.”

“Oh—good.” Draco tipped back, finishing his whiskey, “You need more?”

“Yeah.”

“You probably shouldn’t be drinking.” Draco said, scrunching up his nose.

“Good thing there is a Healer near by.”

“If you go down, I don’t think a drunk Healer is going to be much help.” Draco admitted.

“Better than no one.” Potter said, putting his feet up on the banister. Draco and Potter fell into conversation, and an hour later Potter brought out Wheeze’s cigars. The smoke would change into all sorts of different shapes. They weren’t the finest quality cigar Draco had ever smoked, but they were certainly the most fun.

“Draco. Harry.” Hermione looked sleepy, wrapped in a quilt as she opened the sliding glass door to the porch, “It’s nearly three in the morning.”

“Mione watch this!” Potter said excitedly. He took a puff of his cigar and blew out. A shape that looked shockingly like Snape in his billowy robes walked out, when a puff of wind made his robes go up—he held them down like Marilyn Monroe. Draco snickered before both he and Potter burst out laughing.

“Yes. Yes. It’s hilarious. How drunk are you two?” She asked, then bent down to pick up the discarded and empty bottle of firewhiskey, “You two should get to bed. Harry, please sleep on the couch. I don’t trust you to take the floo.”

“I _hate_ the floo.” Potter said, his nose scrunched up.

“I know you do Harry.” She said indulgently, “Come on. Time for bed.” Potter stood up, frowning as he took a step toward the door.

“I think I’m fine to walk home.” He said.

“I already made up the couch.” Hermione said.

“Ok.” He said with a scowl. Draco gathered the outdoor blankets, folded them up and put them away. He grabbed their two glasses and walked back inside. Sure enough, the couch was already set up with sheets on them. Draco walked into the kitchen and put the two glasses in the sink. He couldn’t help but watch as Potter gracefully pulled his shirt over his head. His back was facing Draco, so Draco got to see the beautiful phoenix tattoo stretched over the right side of his back. It fluttered its wings elegantly. Potter’s jeans were next to hit the ground. Draco watched Potter bend over to step out of them, his arse on display. He was wearing simple blue boxers, but they showed off Potter’s assets.

It was Hermione’s eye on him that made Draco realize what he was doing. He had been checking Potter out.

“Night.” Draco mumbled.

“Night.” Potter said, flopping down on the couch.

“Goodnight Draco.” Hermione said, her eyes following him to his room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hangovers and thickening plots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm uploading this chapter, then I'll have one for tomorrow too. Trying to figure out how to space out the chapters I have written and give me time to finish writing the story but I think I can manage two chapters this week.
> 
> Everyone watching Harry Potter Weekend on Freeform? I am. And I have all the movies, and I still sit and watch it. Not sure why I do that....
> 
> Enjoy.

Draco woke up to pain. His head was pounding right out of his skull. He needed hangover potion. He groaned as he sat up. Hangover potion was all the way in the kitchen. Draco moved to sit up slowly, worried if he moved too quickly he would just vomit. He stood up, his toes cracking on the ground. He was in a pair of green boxers, but he wasn’t inclined to grab pajama bottoms as he walked out into the kitchen. It was almost eight, so it was still a bit too early for everyone to be up. He went to the potions cabinet with determination, finding one bottle and downing it without thinking about it too much. It tasted disgusting, but as soon as it settled his headache started to clear. He took out a second bottle, turning to see where Potter was sleeping.

He was sleeping on his stomach, his one arm off the couch and his other arm underneath his pillow. The sheet was tangled in his legs, so his back was exposed. Draco tried not to stare too long as he set the hangover potion on the coffee table by Potter’s head. He looked different asleep—younger and less dangerous. His mop of a hair was all over the place, despite its shorter length. Draco let out a shaky breath, walking back into his room and closing the door softly behind him.

He couldn’t quite believe he found Potter attractive. Draco wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information, so he crawled back into bed intent to sleep off the rest of his hangover.

Draco woke up to the smell of bacon and a pleasantly settled stomach. He grabbed an undershirt to cover up a bit before walking out into the living room. The Weasel was cooking. Potter had his head down on the island, Hermione was rubbing his back gently.

“Still hungover?” Draco asked, sitting down in the extra bar stool.

“I just took the potion.” Potter’s grumbled speech came from his arm, “How are you alright?”

“I woke up about an hour ago and took one.” Draco explained, “but the potion is powerful, it should kick in soon.”

Potter moaned, “Not soon enough. I blame you for this.”

Draco chuckled, and then turned to the Weasel, “Your Wheezes cigars are fun.”

Weasel grinned, “Right? We were a bit nervous since people have to be eighteen to buy them that our market wouldn’t be a large one—but they’ve been selling like crazy.”

“The quality of tobacco could be improved.”

Weasel nodded, “We went for a lower grade because we didn’t think people would pay more for them. Our first round is testing out the market, we’ll have more in the fall. Even overpriced snobby ones, for people like you.” Weasel placed bacon and eggs in front of him.

 

Summer passed by too fast. The hospital was full of children who burst with uncontrolled magic, with the occasional parent or family member that was the victim of their magic. Draco officially turned in his application to work on the Dark Arts floor—though he applied to a few others just in case. It was still early September when a familiar face walked in through the door. Rachel was sitting on a cot, her father right behind her. Draco managed to catch John’s eye as he made his way over to her.

“What happened Rachel?” Draco asked, sitting down on the stool next to her bed. She had a black eye and looked thinner than she did the last time.

“I-I fell down the stairs.” Her bottom lip trembled, “My leg really hurts.”

“Ok,” Draco frowned, “I’ll need to take you back for some more tests.”

“Just fixing the leg is fine.” The father said gruffly, like he was giving an order.

“If she fell down the stairs, she probably hit some ribs on the way down. I have to make sure there is no internal bleeding.” Draco said.

“We can’t afford it.”

“I’ll have a nurse go through payment plans, but I really have to run these tests Mr—”

“Rudger.”

“Mr. Rudger—I’m just going to take Rachel here back for a few more tests.” Draco got up off his stool, making a motion to the nurses. John took Mr. Rudger’s away, blabbing on about payment plans and such.

Draco quickly moved Rachel to a wheel chair and pushed her back behind the double doors before the father had a chance to stop them. He took her to a private room to run tests, one of the nurses already in it setting up the bench for Rachel to sit on, another nurse pulling out potions. Draco grabbed a piece of parchment.

“Sarah?” Draco looked to the nurse, “Can you owl this real quick?”

“Yes Healer.” She said, her tone confused but she was willing to listen.

“Rachel, you remember me?” Draco asked.

“Y-yeah. You helped me fix my arm.” Draco nodded, “I’m going to run some tests, alright? I need you to stay still.”

 

Draco nearly threw up after running through diagnostics. Rachel had several broken bones that were never seen to that had healed by themselves. She had multiple bruises that were fresh, and some that were healing. There were pins in her left arm from an older injury that had been healed the muggle way. The leg that was broken wasn’t too bad. If this were the muggle world, he could have reported it and that be enough to put the aurors on her. But not in the Wizarding World. In this world, Rachel _had_ to come forward.

“Rachel?” Draco said her name softly, and she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, “You can talk to me, ok? I can help you—just say the word.” She wrung her wrists, a few tears slipping out.

“It’s not his fault.”

“It’s not _your_ fault.” Draco said sternly. He could see how desperate she was to protect her father, to try to convince her otherwise would be a foolish move.

“I—I don’t know.” She said.

“Well let me fix you up first.” Draco said, squeezing her hand for a moment before whispering the spells. As Draco was performing spells, he saw a flash of a deep red robe from outside the door, “Rachel?”

“Yeah.”

“I have someone I want you to meet.” Draco said cautiously, “Can I bring him in?”

“Yeah.” She nodded.

Draco stepped back and motioned for Potter to come in. Draco hadn’t seen him in his full auror robes, but he looked every bit like the Savior of the Wizarding World. Potter’s eyes fell on Rachel, and he gave her a comforting grin.

“Can I sit here?” Potter asked, pointing to the end of the cot.

Rachel’s eyes were as big as saucers, but she nodded enthusiastically.

“You—you’re Harry Potter.” She whispered.

“Yes.” Potter said with a blush. He reached into his robes and grabbed two candies. He unwrapped one and stuck it in his own mouth before holding out one for Rachel, “They’re the Wheezes lollies—they turn you’re tongue different colors. The green one makes your tongue like a snake’s.” Potter explained. Rachel took the candy cautiously, still staring at Potter like he was an angel.

“You’re friends with Harry Potter?” Rachel whispered the question to Draco. Draco smiled as he continued to slowly heal her injuries.

“I am.” Draco said, watching Potter give him the most _ridiculous_ grin.

“W-Why?” Rachel sputtered, making both Potter and Draco laugh. She winced as her bone slid into place.

“Why am I friends with Potter?” Draco asked, she turned bright red, opening her lolly.

“Why is he here?” She asked Draco, her tongue turning blue as soon as the sucker was in her mouth.

“I know about your Dad.” Draco said softly and Rachel immediately stiffened, giving a nervous glance at the nurse. The nurse in the room looked at Draco before quietly walking out of the room. Rachel relaxed a bit more when they were on their own, “We can’t do anything to help you unless you tell someone.” Draco lowered his wand, holding his breath.

“Tell Harry Potter?”

“Tell an auror. I just happen to know this one.” Draco told her, “If you don’t want to tell him, I can get someone else.”

Rachel looked at Potter and frowned, looking down at herself.

“My aunt and uncle kept in me in a cupboard under the stairs until I was eleven.” Potter said, Draco looked up at him in shock but Potter was only looking at Rachel, “They called me a freak because of my magic—and if I was bad they’d feed me through the slot in the door.” Rachel looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. Potter squeezed her hand lightly, “I know it’s scary to say anything bad about your family. Especially if it’s the only family you have. But you can trust me Rachel.”

Rachel looked back down in her lap, and Draco held his breath, “I want to go home.” Draco wanted to cry.

“Alright. But if you ever need me, this is my card.” Potter slipped it into her sweater pocket, “It’s glamored to be Chocolate Frog card, so no one will know but you. You squeeze it three times—and I’ll be there. Alright?”

“Ok.” She said soundly, “I’m ready to go now.”

Draco looked to Potter, who just frowned back. Potter didn’t follow him back out into the waiting room, which was a wise choice. Draco gave Rachel back to her father and watched them walk out.

“She refused to press charges.” The nurse John concluded.

“Yes.” Draco said.

John squeezed his arm, “It was good of you to try.”

“He’s going to kill her.”

“Hopefully she’ll come around.”

Draco could only nod and hope, but he walked back to the front desk and went to wait for the next case.

 

Draco wasn’t surprised when Potter knocked on his door later that day.

“Did you find out where they live?” Draco asked, letting him inside his apartment.

“Yeah, followed them both home.” Potter said, “Discretely, of course. Their house is normal, not much to report I’m afraid.”

“You should have read the report on her body Potter—it’s not good.” Draco wouldn’t break the rules on patient confidentiality, but he wasn’t afraid to flirt the line.

“I know—I saw her.” Potter said, sounding a bit heart broken as he sat down on the couch. He opened his hands up, “There isn’t anything I can do. I told a few aurors on other shifts to watch—but we’re all busy.”

“And she isn’t important.” Draco snapped.

“She’s very important.” Potter growled back, “I don’t know what you want me to do!”

“Break the rules! You do it all the time!” Draco yelled, “How do you get to be a person in your circle that it’s worth breaking the rules for? What Gryffindor bull shit does she have to go through to be worth it?”

“It isn’t like that.” Potter said, his cheeks red and his eyes narrowed at Draco, “I think she’s suffering enough!”

“Well of course she didn’t want to open up to you! Fucking Savior of the Wizarding World. How was she supposed to open up to that? What do you know of abuse? Some bullshit story of living in a cupboard—

“That was true.” Potter cut off acidly.

The wind was knocked out of Draco’s sails as he turned to look at Potter. Potter was glaring at him like he used to—back when Draco had been up to something, “You—that was true?” Draco asked

“Yeah.” Potter said a bit unevenly, looking away from Draco, “My aunt and uncle made me live in a cupboard under the stairs until I was eleven—got my own room once Hogwarts got involved. They were frightened someone would turn them into a toad.”

“B-but you’re famous.” Draco said stupidly, not really sure how to take this information.

Potter snorted, “I had no idea until I was eleven. My family treated me like scum on their shoes. They hardly ever fed me. I would burn food sometimes when I cooked just to get more, otherwise they wouldn’t remember that I do eat three times a day.”

“That’s why you learned to cook.” Draco concluded, still feeling a bit odd.

“Yeah—I did most of the cooking for them.” Potter said, and then gave him a side-glance, “How about you? You’re way to invested in this not to have person experience.”

“Father would never lay a hand on me.” Draco said angrily, and Potter frowned, “He would use his wand.” Potter let out a small breath, “Summer at home was always full of studying for next year at Hogwarts.” Draco looked at his hands, “Draco this year there are _no_ excuses.” He sneered to himself, “If that _mudblood_ does better than you _again_.” Draco rubbed his arms, “Stinging hexes—crucio a few times when I got older.” Draco let out a breath, “He stopped when he got thrown into Azkaban, but then the Dark Lord moved into our house and I had a million other problems.” Draco ran his fingers through his hair.

It was quiet for a moment, “I’m sorry that happened to you.” Potter said.

“I’m sorry your aunt and uncle are shit people.” Draco responded, and Potter grinned.

“My cousin was an arse too.”

“Well my aunt was insane.”

Potter snorted, “That is true.” He ran his fingers through his mop of a head, “Well, after a conversation like that I could use a drink—want to join me?”

Draco made a surprised sound, “Sure.”

 

That’s how he ended up shit faced at a bar with Potter. There was a live band playing, so they made a bunch of new friends at the pub too. Usually Draco was nervous around so many muggles; but whether it was because of the alcohol or Potter, he was comfortable now.

They were sitting in a booth, watching the band with two lagers when Potter turned to him.

“So how did you become friends with Hermione?” Harry asked, “From my prospective—you just _poof_ became friends.”

“It did not happen like poof.” Draco rolled his eyes, “We became friends eighth year.”

“She _always_ says that. But it’s not really an explanation.”

“I apologized Halloween feast eighth year. I got a little tipsy" Draco thought it over, "Nah, that’s a lie. I was _wasted_. She found me. I was on the astronomy tower—being spectacularly cavalier with heights. I was drunk, started apologizing. It was—I just remember a lot of crying to be honest. I don’t think Hermione quite knew what to do with me. She brought me back to the Slytherin common room for the night, but came and found me the next day. I apologized sober. So we became friendly.”

“That was it?” Potter scrunched up his nose, “Honestly I’m—you seem different than you did in school. And Hermione asked for me to give you a chance. I fought her but” Potter shrugged, “She won—she usually does.”

“So that’s why you’re being nice to me?”

“Well—that and you’ve been pleasant.”

“I’ll be sure to rectify that.”

“So is that it? Is that what happened eighth year?”

“No—I punched Smith. Hermione and I had a lot of classes together, so we were hanging out a lot. Mostly in the library doing homework—not even talking much really. Smith called her a Death Eater’s whore—so I punched him in the face.”

“Cunt deserved it.” Potter said bitterly.

“Yeah—nearly got me thrown back in Azkaban. Hermione defended me, so McGonagall happened to lose the letter telling the aurors I broke my parole. I was assured she would not lose the letter again. After everything Hermione did for me, I started calling her Hermione.”

Draco ran his fingers through his hair, “When my parents threw me out at Christmas—I came back to Hogwarts in a dark place.” He swirled his drink in his glass a bit, “She was there for me—fuck if I know why but she was. We had another long conversation—a few actually.” Draco shook his head, “She was there for me in a tough time. Offered me a place to stay over spring break since I didn’t have anywhere to go. I think she said it to be kind, not thinking I’d say yes but I did. I stayed with the Grangers for nine days.”

“I—I had no idea.” Potter whispered.

“They were kind to me, despite what I had said about their daughter. They forgave me and brought me into their home even though I had been a bigoted arse and gave me a chance.” Draco smiled, “I can never repay them for that. I got to ask them a bunch of questions without anyone judging me. Jean was wary of me at first, but then she got to liking me too. She’s the one who got me into cooking.”

“I was wondering when you learned.”

“Yeah—I tried to help out in the kitchen because she was reserving judgment. Honestly I think she liked teaching someone to cook, Hermione never showed any inclination. I have no idea why they were so kind—I asked Jean about it later. She said that she had a chance to change one person’s mind about muggles. And if that isn’t reason enough, than what would be?” Draco shook his head again, “I am allowed to call her on Hermione’s phone. I ask her recipe questions if I get stuck.”

“Hermione never told me.”

“She’s good like that—if it’s not her story to tell.” Draco said, downing the rest of his drink.

“This round is on me.” Potter said, clapping his shoulder before going up to the bar. He came back with another round. Potter slid in the booth, “Thank you for telling me that. You didn’t have to.”

Draco smiled, “I’m glad you asked instead of demanded to know.”

“I still think you’re a prat—you stick up your nose at things, and sometimes you’re condescending. But you’re not all bad.”

“You have a savior complex problem and a bit hypocritical. But you’re not that bad either.” Draco held up his glass and Potter clinked it.

At some point lagers became shots and the whole night went down hill from there. The band became more enjoyable the drunker Draco got. So by the end of the evening, they were his new best friends. Potter exchanged numbers with the head of the band at the end of the night, to see when their next show would be.

They walked out into the night, walking back to Draco’s place. They were joking around, singing different songs from the bar when a flash went off.

“Go home!” Potter yelled at an ally.

“What was that?” Draco asked.

“Ruddy fucking PROPHET” Potter yelled; Draco pulled him toward his flat which wasn’t too far, “A man can’t go get a drink in fucking PEACE. Not like I haven’t EARNED IT!” Potter was hardly ever so flippant about saving the world, so Draco quickly moved him away from the paparazzi in case he decided to throw a hex.

“I can picture the title now _Pissed Potter gets Pissed at Paparazzi_ ” Draco said, and Potter turned away from where he though the paparazzi was and giggled.

“More likely how awful my voice is.” Potter said, and they both laughed as they walked into Draco’s building. They started walking up the steps as Potter started, “ _You can drink your fancy ales_ —”

“ _You can drink them by the flagon!”_ Draco answered as he fumbled with his key in the door.

_“But the only brew for the brave and true!_ ” Draco and Potter both sang together as they burst into his apartment, “ _COMES FROM THE GREEN DRAGON!”_

“Found ‘em.” Weasel said flatly, looking amused.

“We were lost?” Potter asked, looking at Hermione.

“It was just late—I was wondering where Draco was and Ron said you weren’t home either.” Hermione said, looking at both of them, “Where were you?”

“Pub around the corner.” Draco said, walking to fill up a glass of water, “Potter you want a water?”

“Please.”

“That’s a muggle bar.” Weasel said.

“Yes it is.” Draco confirmed, sliding a water glass to Potter.

“It was fun.” Potter said excitedly, “They had live music, great band.”

“It was fun.” Draco agreed.

“Until the Prophet showed up.” Potter scowled into his water glass, “Odds that tomorrow the paper will feature something about my drinking problem?”

“Nope—Death Eater will be somewhere in the title.” Draco disagreed.

Potter raised an eyebrow, “You’re on.”

“What does the winner get?”

“Bottle of Ogden’s?” Potter suggested.

“Done.” They shook hands on it.

“Maybe the title _should_ have something to do with your drinking problem.” Hermione said.

“I’m fine, just a little pissed. I’m going to bed.” Potter said, running his fingers through his hair and sounding exhausted.

“Let’s go.” Ron said standing up.

“Watch out for the Prophet.” Draco called as they walked out the door. They said their goodnights and Ron and Potter closed the door. Hermione and Draco were quiet for a moment.

“I heard you had a difficult day.”

“The girl I told you about before that is being abused was back again—her leg broken. I had Potter come in to try and get her to tell someone but she left.” Draco ran his hand over his left arm.

“Ah—thus the pub night.” She said, nodding.

“Yeah.” Draco rubbed his arm again, “I—I told Potter about our eighth year. Not—not everything, but some stuff.”

Hermione smiled, “Good for you.”

“I thought you would have told him.”

“You made me promise not to.” Hermione argued.

“I know—I just—not used to people keeping their promises.” Draco confessed. He rubbed his left arm a bit, “He said you asked him to give me a chance.”

“I did.” She confirmed.

“Why?” Draco asked.

“I think you two could be good friends if you both can let the past go. It might not be fair of you to ask of him—but I can.” She shrugged, “Plus, I think I’d like my friends to stop avoiding my flat because you’re here.”

Draco looked down at his hands, “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. I know you were an asshole—still kinda are an asshole.” She elbowed him a bit so he could look up and see her smile, “But I really do love being your friend.”

Draco grinned back, “I like being yours too.” They were quiet a moment and Draco let out a yawn, “I’m going to bed.”

“Night Draco.” She called softly as he walked into his room.

“Goodnight Hermione.”

Draco stripped off his clothes, put them away and curled into bed. He tried not to examine his thundering heart too much. Potter hadn’t been afraid to touch him all night. Nothing more than friendly shoves and small touches, but each one had sent Draco’s heart fluttering. Alone, he couldn’t get away from the fluttering feeling in his chest.

“Fuck.” Draco said, pulling the blanket over his head.

This was not good.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you find the song familiar, it's from Lord of the Rings. I couldn't resist.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting always came easy

Draco stood in Diagon Alley staring in the shop window. There was a beautiful pair of loafers in there, stitched to perfection. Back when he lived with his parents, Draco had no less than six pairs of shoes made by the designer. They were ridiculously expensive shoes, but they had a reputation for a reason. Charms built in to not pinch your toes, it made you feel like you were walking on a cloud all day long.

If he said his bank account number in his head over and over again, he wouldn’t buy the shoes. It wasn’t that he didn’t have enough galleons to spend on the shoes, but that he really should be using his money for more practical things. He actually kept a list of everything that he needed outside of food so that when he got paid he wouldn’t impulse buy. He learned really quickly just how fast money could go if you let your feelings get in the way.

“You’re drooling.” Draco would recognize that tone anywhere, so he didn’t turn his gaze to greet Potter.

“They’re just so perfect.” Draco said with a sigh.

“How much are they?”

“100 galleons.” Draco answered.

“What the fuck? Do they _carry_ you?” Potter turned to the shoes.

“No, just expertly crafted. The stitches are done by hand—not by magic. Each one woven with spells as they go for comfort.”

“But—that’s just ridiculous.” Potter argued.

Draco shrugged, “My money—if I want to spend them on a ridiculous pair of shoes or one a racing broom I keep in the shed—it’s my prerogative.”

“Yeah but—these are just ridiculous. Have you tried them on?”

“I had six pairs of shoes from here when I lived in the Manor.” Draco confessed.

_“Six_.”

“I’m a man that likes my shoes.” Draco said with a smile, trying not to take offense to his aghast expression.

“I don’t know if I have six pairs of shoes.” Potter said, and Draco snorted.

“Some people are simple.” Potter immediately stiffened, “I—I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant—some people can have three shirts and be completely content. I’d go bonkers. Neither one is better than the other—just a different way of living.”

“Some people that’s all they have.” Potter snapped.

“I’m not talking about them—I’m talking about people who _can_ afford more and choose to only have three shirts. Plus this is all a hypothetical, I’m not sure why you are getting irritated.” Draco scowled.

“I’m not sure why I’m here.” Potter said, striding away. Draco scowled after him—what the fuck was wrong with wanting nice things? It’s not the _only_ reason why Draco worked hard, but it was certainly one of them.

Draco kept replaying the conversation in his head over and over again until he was absolutely sure Potter was an complete pillock. He came back to his apartment with a few bags—some quills and a new button down shirt for under his robes.

“Have fun shopping?” Hermione asked, her feet kicked up on the coffee table with a book in her lap.

“Yeah—sort of. Ran into Potter.” Draco said.

“Uh oh.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You said it like— _Potter.”_ She attempted to sneer, but it was just an absolutely pathetic attempt.

“He saw me outside of Tiastan’s shop—I was looking at the shoes in the window.”

“They are beautiful shoes.” Hermione said with a sigh.

“I know! That’s what I said! And he comes after me for being fucking _careless_ with my money. Shaming me for not giving it away to some poor homeless person on the street—I wasn’t even going to _buy_ them—and” Draco kept ranting since he was on a roll. He had been thinking about this speech for hours, and he would say the whole thing damn it. Hermione held up her hands.

“Harry has a weird thing about clothes.” She said when he finally ran out of wind.

“So that _excuses_ him?” Draco asked.

“No.” She said decidedly, “But you should probably go talk to him.”

“Why? I don’t need to make up with him. Plus—I didn’t do _anything_ wrong.”

“No you don’t—but it might make you feel better.”

“Fuck. That.” Draco said decidedly, “I’m making dinner—you want anything?”

 

It was about midday, Draco was on the late shift so he was still at home. He was sitting on the couch, flipping through some Healer notes when there was a loud banging at the door. He jumped, grabbing his wand.

“Merlin’s beard.” He grumbled, “I’m coming!” He shouted as he walked to the door. When he opened it, he almost slammed it closed when he saw Potter standing there.

“Mione home?”

“No. She’s at work. Because it’s in the middle of the day.” Draco went to close the door but Potter held out his hand.

“Wait!”

“Are you dying?”

“No—

“Then goodbye.” Draco moved back to close the door.

Potter managed to grab the door, pushing it open, “You fucking asshole! I’m bleeding!”

“Find another Healer!” Draco said, trying to close the door on Potter, “There’s literally an entire _hospital full_ of them!”

“Come on! Just let me in!” He shoved the door and it moved an inch, so Draco pushed it back. Grinning wickedly to himself, Draco had another idea. He kept his hands on the door, trying to close it shut but backed away from the door as far as he could. When he was sure the door wouldn’t crush him, he let go.

Much to his delight, Potter went sprawling across the room, landing head first onto the floor.

“Why can’t you just _heal me_ instead of being an utter fucking _prat?_ ” Potter asked, leaping to his feet.

“You were trying to push your way through the door! You didn’t fucking ask you self important prick!”

“Oh yes, just bow down to Malfoy and ask him to do something he would already do for anyone else!”

“Yes. Because just because you’re Harry _fucking_ Potter doesn’t mean you get any special privileges. You need to go to St. Mungo’s like _everyone else_.”

“Oh yes, sorry I burst in on your very busy day. I apologize for taking up any of your precious fucking time. You can stay here with your precious shoes and go fuck yourself.”

Draco couldn’t help but shove him, “I didn’t even buy the shoes you fucking arse hole!” Potter shoved him back. Draco would swear later Potter went after him, but it was more of a mutual attack. He elbowed Potter in the thigh only to get nailed in the face. His lip felt warm as he shoved him again, both falling to the ground.

Potter pinned him to the floor pretty quickly because he was a fucking _auror_. So he _should_ pin Draco to the floor quickly. Draco retaliated by trying to buck him off. There were a few more elbows thrown in, shoves back and forth and a few grunts of pain. Again Potter managed to pin him down but Draco nailed a solid hit to his ribs.

Potter gasped and his navy blue shirt started to get dark red.

“What the fuck?” Draco asked, “There’s no way I did that.”

“I—I—” Potter gasped, clutching his neck as his face turned red. He couldn’t breathe. Draco wiggled out from under Potter, grabbing his wand, which was lying abandoned on the floor. He crawled back to Potter and pulled up his shirt. His left side of his rib cage was bruised to hell, a deep laceration on the left side between the fifth and sixth rib. One of them had punctured his lung. Potter started coughing, blood spattered everywhere. Draco said the incantation and immediately Potter gasped a deep breath. He pulled several deep breaths as Draco continued to heal him.

“Wh-what happened?”

“Punctured lung. Which I maintain that I did not do.” Draco said.

“Got hurt before I was here—that’s why I came.” Potter said, “You must have made it worse.”

“And now I’m healing you like you wanted. So you can shove it up your arse.” Draco said, backing away. The incantation would continue to heal it, “You need a few potions—I’ll write a script.”

“Do I _need_ them?”

“One of them makes sure your ribs didn’t splinter with bone fragments in your chest—so _yes_ you need them Potter. You aren’t infallible.”

“I know that.” Potter snapped.

“You certainly don’t act like it.” Draco said, standing up. He went to his room and grabbed his potion script pad. He wrote down the necessary potions and signed his name, walking back into the living room, “Do you want a pain potion?”

“No—I’m fine.” Potter said, wincing as he stood up, “I don’t like pain potions, makes my reflexes slower.”

Draco tore off the script page and handed it to Potter, “Get out of my flat.”

“Fine.” Potter disapperated on the spot.

“Fucking _arse_ hole.” Draco said, shaking his head. He cleaned up his lip a bit, healing it as much as possible before changing into his Healer robes—he was going to be late if he didn’t hurry.

Sherry laughed at him when she saw him, so he knew he still looked ridiculous after being in a fight. He scared away no more than three nurses who tried to work with him. When he finally trudged himself over to the café for a quick bite and some caffeine, his mood had worsened. He plopped down in the booth across from Hermione.

“Oh my.” She had a smile on her lips, “I’ve heard rumors all day.”

“I’ve told no one what actually fucking happened—so everyone can keep their god damned mouths shut about me.” Draco growled into his sandwich.

“I know— but you can’t help people speculating.” Hermione said with a shrug, “So what _did_ happen? I have money on this.”

“There’s a betting pool?” Draco asked.

“Of course—now _please_ tell me.” Hermione’s eyes were large and round, trying to get more pity out of him.

Draco rolled his eyes, “Potter came over. We got in a fight.”

She grinned victoriously, “And that’s why I’m the brightest witch of my age.”

“Can we split the winnings?”

“Absolutely not.” She said with a laugh, “I’ll get you a cookie.”

Draco frowned, but he did like cookies, “Fine.”

“Want to tell me _why_ you were fighting with Harry?”

Draco told the whole story—and it might have been the slightly dramatic version of what actually happened. But he was entitled to it. Potter was a monster that attacked him for liking shoes and refusing to heal him.

Hermione grinned, “You two are ridiculous.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side!” Draco said.

“I’m not saying I’m not—I’m just saying your both ridiculous. You acted like you were in Hogwarts all over again—and now you don’t have teenage angst to blame.”

“I was not an angsty teen.” Draco sniffed.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “We were _all_ angsty teens, it’s a rite of passage.” She waved her hand, “But that’s beside the point. You refusing to heal him was just being petty, but Harry shouldn’t have forced you to heal him. And you probably shouldn’t have let him fall flat on his face.”

Draco looked away, “I don’t regret it.”

“I’m sure you don’t.” Hermione laughed, “Come on—I’ll get you a cookie.”

“Thank you—I’m still recuperating.”

“You’re pathetic is what you are.” Hermione was still shaking her head when she bought him a cookie.

Draco cheered up considerably after the sweet and some more caffeine. And there were several cases that came in that were gruesome—which also cheered Draco up. He worked a bit longer on his shift after a few patients came in last moment but dragged himself home at seven the next morning.

When he got out of the floo, his good mood instantly evaporated. Potter was sitting on a barstool by the island. He turned around to see Draco, but Draco was intent on avoiding him.

“Wait! I bought you a chocolate muffin.” Potter said right as Draco opened the door to his bedroom. Draco scrunched his nose. He really wanted to slam the door to be dramatic, but he really wanted the chocolate muffin. Draco turned around and narrowed his eyes.

“Where is it?” Draco asked. Potter held up a white cardboard box and opened it to reveal four chocolate muffins.

“There is a bakery I love on the other side of Diagon.”

“So you went there to get an apology muffin?” Draco asked.

“Well—yes.” Potter said.

“Fine. I’ll hear it.”

“You’ll hear what?”

“Your apology.” Draco said, “You haven’t actually said the words yet.”

“Well, I wanted to be sure you wouldn’t walk away first.” Potter pulled out a muffin and placed it on the counter. Draco scowled, walking into the kitchen to grab a plate to put it on. Potter grabbed a muffin for himself, so Draco slid him a plate. The muffins were massive, easily the size of four regular muffins. And double chocolate. They were still a bit warm. Draco’s mouth was watering as he pealed off the wrapper and flipped the muffin upside down. The top was his favorite part, so he always started from the bottom up. He used a fork to take off a small bite and groaned.

“Fuck this is good.” Draco said.

“Hermione said chocolate is your favorite.”

“I have a sweet tooth.” Draco said, “Now, you can start your apology.”

“You did shove me first.” Potter pointed out.

“After you were an arse.”

“I was an arse—and I’m sorry. Hermione helped me see that I was being self-righteous. You donate to charities, you do some work pro-bono, you work very hard—so you can buy whatever shoes you want. And even if you didn’t do all that stuff—it’s your money. It’s your life.”

“I certainly didn’t tell you that I did those things.”

“Hermione did.” Potter looked a bit sheepish, “I may gave yelled at her.”

“Well I hope you brought her a muffin too.” Draco said.

“That’s why I went originally.” Potter confessed, “But I got her coffee cake.”

“You bought two other muffins.”

“Yes—I like their muffins.” Potter had a smile, “do you accept my apology?”

“I do not.” Draco said and grabbed another muffin, “Now I do.”

Potter rolled his eyes. He pulled off a piece from his muffin, taking a bite out of it, “Why do you eat a muffin with a fork?”

“Because I’m not a heathen.” Draco replied, taking a small bite sliding the fork through his teeth.

“I eat it upside down too.” Potter said with a grin, “But I eat it like a heathen—do you eat pizza with a fork and knife?”

“Yes.” Draco said.

“ _Why_?”

“I don’t like to get my hands dirty.” Draco said with a shrug.

“Well, you do share that in common with your—” _father_ Draco glared at him before he could finish the sentence. Otherwise he’d need more apology muffins, “You’re right—I’ll shut up.”

“I think it’s a cleaning thing.” Draco trudged on.

“I’ve noticed how clean your apartment is—and organized.” Potter said, “I wasn’t sure if it was you or Mione.”

“Both—I organize everything, but I think Hermione would if I gave her the chance. Some things are off limits—her side of the bookshelf, her muggle telly stuff. But the kitchen is all mine.”

“Is your pant drawer organized?” Potter asked.

“Yes. Color coded.” Draco answered.

“I just ball mine up and throw it in.” Potter sounded proud of it, finishing up the bottom of his muffin. Draco rolled his eyes.

“Where is the bakery?”

“On a shady side of Diagon Alley—well, it’s not _that_ shady. But not somewhere to go if you’re looking for legal. I was following Rachel’s dad. Turns out he has a _lot_ of connections.”

“How?”

“He’s a guard at Azkaban—has been one since before we were born. Low-level job—I think he couldn’t keep another one to be honest. He seems to piss off everyone he meats. But he does a lot of favors for people. Nothing too illegal, just flirting the line but things higher up people don’t want to do.”

“Grunt man.”

“Exactly.” Potter nodded, biting into his muffin top.

“I—you’re still following him?”

“Yeah.” Potter said, “Rachel seems to be alright. She hasn’t tried to reach out to me.”

“Seems to be alright and actually alright are two different things.” Draco said, his voice like steal.

“I know.” Potter said softly

Draco ran his fingers through his hair.

“Why do you have a weird thing about clothes?” Draco asked, deciding not to out Hermione by just asking the question point blank.

Potter grimaced, “It’s—I sort of told you that my Aunt and Uncle didn’t treat me very well.” Draco thought _very well_ wasn’t really covering it, but he nodded anyway, “They—I wore a lot of their clothes when I was growing up. Hand me downs. Dudley’s old jeans, Vernon’s old shirt—I didn’t really have clothes of my own. It wouldn’t have been that bad just to get hand-me-downs, but they were both heavy. The only reason the pants stayed up is because of the belt—and the shirts were just ridiculous.” He shook his head, “So I’m really picky about clothes—really _really_ picky. If the fabric feels terrible, I won’t buy it. It’s always hard for me to go get clothes because I never really did. I find it overwhelming and stressful.”

“Well, if you ever need help—” Draco grinned, “I got you covered. I am an _amazing_ shopper. It’s one of the reasons why Pansy loves me.”

“I just—I never feel comfortable spending a lot on clothes.”

Draco frowned, “I gathered that—but you have to think about your cost to wear ratio. If you absolutely _love_ something—you wear it all the time. That leather jacket you wear from your motorbike—it’s real leather. I’m sure that jacket cost a fortune.”

“But it was Sirius’s. I didn’t buy it.”

“But he did. He thought it was worth the money. Plus, he got to hand it down. Good quality is something to be valued. I’m not saying people don’t over price things because they are highly valued—because they do. But I think some things are worth it, and some things aren’t. Those Dragon Hide boots you wear—I would find them impractical as I would never wear them. Clearly, you do.”

“They were a gift from Charlie.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Do you regret having them? They probably cost just as much as the shoes I was looking at.”

Potter’s eyes got big, “Really?”

“Are they made from a dragon friendly hide shop?”

“Yes—Charlie works with Dragons. He’d never get me somewhere that inhumanely kills dragons.”

“Then they _definitely_ cost as much as the shoes I was looking at.” Draco said with certainty.

Potter frowned, “I’m a hypocrite.”

“I know.” Draco said smugly.

“And I owe you a bottle of Ogden’s.” The Prophet had featured a lovely article with Death Eater in the title when it captured the two of them drunkenly walking back from the bar. Potter had caught the camera man’s eye, so he was barking something at the picture when it was taken. Draco was walking beside him, unaware. But the title was The Chosen One and the Death Eater: Friend or Foe?

“Yes you do.” Draco said, smiling at Potter.

“Try not to look so smug about it.” Potter frowned, finishing off his muffin.

“I think I’ve earned it.” Draco replied.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes a title isn't enough

In early October, both Hermione and Draco accepted different residency positions. Hermione on Uncommon Issues Yet to be Classified and Draco accepted the Dark Arts floor. Sometimes Draco missed being in the emergency room and the unpredictability it brought, but he loved being a part of a specific practice. The hall had its own coffee shop on the floor, so his caffeine addiction only increased. He got to work on cases he had only ever dreamed about.

The only issue was that he was hardly ever home. He got too excited when a new case came in. Park slowly warmed up to Draco, and the two ended up getting along quite well. Better than the other resident Draco was hired on with—her name was Sammy Appleson. Draco ended up liking her too, despite the fact she was a Hufflepuff.

Draco was working on a patient with a curse. Anytime he thought about having sex, his right hand completely disappeared. His wife had found the curse in an old spell book. It was difficult to keep from laughing. The bloke had cheated on his wife, which is why she had given him the curse in the first place.

“Healer Malfoy?” Nurse Will called for him, “You’re needed at the main desk.”

“Can it wait? I got more diagnostics to run.” Draco said, motioning over to his patient whose hand was visible.

“No sir.” Will bit his lip, “it’s urgent—aurors are here.”

Draco furrowed his brow in confusion. He apologized to his patient before walking out. Potter was standing there with two other aurors, his face was serious.

“Malfoy, we need you to come in.” An auror said sternly.

“Why?” Malfoy asked, putting his wand in a fold of his robe, “If you’re going to accuse me of something—”

“It’s not that.” Potter cut him off, biting his lip.

“Than what is it Potter?” Draco asked.

The older auror jumped in, “We found a body this morning, we believe it is a former patient of yours. We need you to identify her.”

Draco felt his stomach fall through the floor. He looked to Potter. He thought he might get sick. His brain was whirring faster than he could keep up. Why couldn’t Potter make the identification? Potter had met with her too.

“Why can’t you?” Draco asked Potter.

“Her identifying features have been marred. We need your diagnostics. You said you ran tests on her.” Potter said.

Draco thought he might get sick, “Let me tell my boss, I’ll be right back.” Draco walked down the hall in a bit of a daze, his breathing shallow and his eyes blurring up.

“Draco?” Park called to him, “You don’t look well.”

“I have to go with the aurors—they found a body that is a former patient. I need to identify it—her.” Draco said, he rubbed his left arm, “They need to identify her through medical means because they can’t identify her remains without them.”

Park nodded solemnly, “Alright.”

Draco nodded once more before walking back out through to the main office. The three aurors were still there.

“Ready.” He said.

“We’ll apparate you into the Medical Examiner’s office.” Potter said, grabbing his arm, “Three. Two—” Draco felt his insides compress.

Draco followed Potter in a sort of daze, not really sure he could believe that this was real. His heart was hammering in his chest. He hadn’t been back inside the ministry since his trial, but he didn’t really feel like he was in the ministry in this section. It was sanitary, felt more like a hospital. They came up to a set of double doors and Potter stopped.

“The M.E. is in there, she can help with the identification.” Potter said, “Want me to come in with you?”

“No.” Draco shook his head, pushing past him and through the double doors.

“Healer Malfoy.” The M.E. greeted somberly. She had medium length dark hair and dark eyes, “I’m Brittany.”

“Draco is fine.” Draco said, looking at the table. There was a sheet over the body. It was so small. Even covered, she was so tiny.

“Caucasian female, nine years of age.” Brittany told him softly, “Does that fit with your records?”

“Yes.” Draco nodded, “She had a femoral fracture in her right leg as well as a radius and ulna fracture on her left arm.” The ME confirmed that the body in front of her had both of those injuries, “She has several healed over broken ribs. Muggle pins were also put in her left humerus.” He rattled off where they would be, and the ME confirmed each of them. Draco knew it was Rachel.

“It is safe to assume this is the body of Rachel Rudger.” Brittany confirmed.

Draco closed his eyes, his throat burning like acid. He knew it, but to hear it confirmed was worse. He opened his eyes and looked down at the sheet.

“Can I see her?” Draco asked.

“Her face was purposefully marred to hide her identity.” Brittany said.

“I don’t care.” Draco shook his head, “I want to see her.”

Brittany nodded, grabbing the end of the sheet, “Ready?”

“Yes.” Draco answered, not sure if he was ready at all. She pulled the sheet down and Draco had to force himself not to get sick. Her head was completely bashed in, unrecognizable. Draco let out a breath, looking at how small her hands were.

“The trauma to her face was postmortem.” Brittany said softly.

“C.O.D.?” Draco asked.

“Exsanguination.” Brittany answered, “She fell down something—probably stairs, there are several bruises and broken bones. The crack to the skull killed her eventually.”

Draco bit his lip, “She had time to be saved.”

Brittany nodded, “She bled out for a few minutes—it wouldn’t have been quick.” Draco’s eyes burned and he felt like couldn’t breathe, “The lead auror on the case thinks the father marred her face to keep her from being identified. She went through a litany of injuries, her father was definitely abusive.”

“I tried to get her to come forward—I brought Potter into the ER hoping she’d make a statement.” His voice broke at the end, so he cleared it.

“I am so sorry.” She whispered, “She didn’t see much kindness in this world.”

“No. She didn’t.” Draco said, looking back up at Brittany, “Is that all you needed?”

“Yes.”

Draco turned around and walked out, “I’m needed back at the hospital.” Draco told the aurors, not stopping to look at any of them—let alone Potter.

“Malfoy!” Potter called as he disappeared down the hallway, but he kept walking away. His body felt like it was in a dream—not really attached to himself.

 

Draco apparated back to the hospital and was given a case file nearly as soon as he appeared in the main entrance way. Some sort of cauldron explosion had taken this patient’s sight, so Draco strode off to the patients room. He had run a few diagnostics when feelings started rushing in.

“Excuse me for a moment.” Draco said without further preamble and stepped out into the hall. He barely managed to make it to the bathroom before throwing up. He closed his eyes, tears from throwing up slipping down his face. He flushed the toilet and went to the sink to clean up a bit. He glared at himself in the mirror, trying to put all of his emotions in tight, neat little boxes before going about the rest of his shift.

His shift was only three more hours, but every moment was agony. He was barely aware of his own hand in front of his face. He wasn’t sure why the world hadn’t stopped spinning.

“Draco?” Healer Park called to him. He hadn’t realized he was staring at a chart for too long, he blinked at looked up at the elder man, “You’re distracted.”

“Long day.” Draco answered, looking back down at the chart, trying to read it.

“Did you identify the person at the ME’s office?” He asked.

“Yes.” Draco said shortly.

“Who was it?” Winston asked, and Draco’s shoulders fell.

“Rachel Rudger. She was a young girl that had come into the ER twice while I worked there. Abuse case. I tried—I tried to get her help.”

“I’m sure you did.” Winston let out a small sigh, “She isn’t the first patient you lost?”

“No—not even the first one murdered. But—youngest one murdered.” Draco acquiesced.

Winston nodded, “It isn’t easy with children—especially once you have your own.”

“She was so young.” Draco whispered, “It isn’t fair.”

“No. It wasn’t fair. But life isn’t fair.” Park said.

“I just wish she had more time.”

“Her life was brutal, you were a glimmer of happiness in her otherwise terrifying life. She has found peace.” Winston said, “You will have to make your own peace with that. Go ahead and go home, Draco. Have a relaxing weekend and I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Thank you sir.” Draco said, letting out a breath. He still didn’t feel right. How could Winston say that she had found peace? How did anyone know that? Draco scoffed, grabbing some floo powder before going back home.

He pulled off his robe, sending it to the wash. It was nearly eight at night, so he ordered take out rather than make food. Hermione wasn’t home—she and Ronald were having a couple’s weekend far away from Draco. He had been excited to have the apartment to himself, but now he wanted her company if only he wouldn’t be alone. There was a knock on the door, signaling his food was here. He opened it up to give the man his money. He was soaked from the rain.

“Have a nice night.” He said before running down the stairs.

Draco sighed, taking his food inside. He opened up his Indian food containers, smelling the curry. He had ordered a bit too much, but he wanted left overs for tomorrow. He opened up the curtains, staring out at the pouring rain. The fire was keeping him warm as he propped up his feet on the coffee table. Just as he got situated, there was another knock on the door.

“Coming!” He called, putting down his food. He walked over to the door and pulled it open. Potter was standing there, clearly wet. He had changed out of his auror robes and was wearing jeans and a flannel. Draco scowled as soon as he realized who it was, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see if you were alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Draco asked.

“Rachel—today—I’m so sorry.” Potter stuttered, “Can I come in?”

Draco really didn’t want to let him in, not really understanding himself why he was so angry at Potter. It took a moment, but he opened the door. Potter slipped in, taking off his brown leather boots.

“Where did you find her?” Draco asked.

“Knockturn Alley.” Potter answered, shutting the door behind him, “A-are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Yes.” Draco snapped, walking away from Potter with his arms crossed.

“She was found in a back Alley off Knockturn—put in a dumpster. The morning staff of the café there fond her at about six this morning. She had been dead about fifteen hours when they found her.”

“So the dad killed her, waited for everyone to go to sleep, then dumped her like yesterday’s trash.” Draco concluded.

“We have to prove it—but yes.” Potter concluded.

“It was a slow death—she bled out.” Draco snapped.

“I know.” Potter’s voice was too calm while Draco was spinning out of control. Every emotion he had bottled up came up to the surface.

“That asshole of a man had something precious and he destroyed it! How could he do it? How could he kill her? She was only _nine_ years old.”

“I don’t know.” Potter whispered.

“And you!” Draco turned around, not caring that the emotion was all over his face. But he also couldn’t control it anymore, “You let her die!” He shoved Potter, “You’re the fucking _savior_. But you didn’t do your _one fucking job_.” He shoved Potter again, “You were supposed to fucking _help her_. Not _let her die alone!_ ” He shoved Potter again as Potter held onto him tightly. He let out a small sob as he tried to push Potter again, but he only pulled Draco tighter. Draco grasped Potter’s flannel shirt, trying to push him away, but he dropped his head on Potter’s shoulder. Potter’s arms went around his back and held him close.

“She deserved better.” Draco said into his shirt.

“She did.” Potter confirmed.

Draco relented, letting go of Potter’s shirt and wrapping them around his waist. Silent tears fell down his face and his breath hitched as he breathed in. Potter rubbed his back. It took a while; Draco just let all the emotion out. Potter didn’t move a step away from him and held him close the entire time. A bit later, Draco pulled away and wiped his face. Draco’s cheeks were red, embarrassed he had cried into Potter’s shirt.

“Come on. I want to see what food you have.” Potter said, pulling him over to the coffee table.

“I didn’t order it for you.” Draco said, his voice scratchy.

“Yeah, but you have plenty—and two forks. It’s like you knew I was coming.” Potter set Draco down, giving him his food. He squeezed Draco’s shoulder before walking over to the kitchen. He came back with a plate and served himself before curling up on the couch next to Draco. It was too close than what friends sit and Draco’s heart sped up a bit. He looked down at his food, taking a bite. He felt warmer with food in him, Potter’s body heat radiating off of him.

“Have you questioned the father yet?”

Potter nodded, “We notified him soon after you left. He played grieving father well.”

“I’m sure he fucking did.” Draco scoffed, taking another bite of his food, “Did you get a new auror partner?”

“Yeah. The tall older guy? That’s Craig Pope. I’m his partner now.”

“You like him?”

Potter nodded, “Yeah—he’s excellent. No one wanted to be his partner cause he’s a bit picky, but I like him. He’s a sucker for ice cream, so we get along just fine.” He popped in a mouthful of food, wiping a bit of rice that slipped out into his mouth.

“You traveling as much?”

Potter wobbled his head, waiting a bit to answer as he chewed his food and then swallowed, “Still traveling, just more manageable. I enjoy it now.”

“And Craig likes to travel too?”

Potter smiled, “Yeah, he’s been everywhere. I swear everywhere we go he knows everyone there and remembers everyone’s name. He never married, so I think he really threw himself into the job.” Potter nudged Draco, “You have any interesting happen on the Dark Arts floor today?”

Draco snorted, “I have a guy that was cursed by his wife for cheating on him.”

“What’s the curse?”

“Anytime he thinks of sex his right hand disappears.” Draco said, and Potter snorted. Draco giggled, and soon they were both laughing together.

“Poor bloke. That’s terrible.” Potter said.

They moved onto happier subjects. Draco talked more about his work and Potter’s eyes seemed to stare right into his soul. They pushed the food aside eventually, and Potter helped him clean up because Draco couldn’t just leave dirty plates everywhere.

Once it was all clean, Draco pulled out the chocolate cake he had made earlier. He served them both ice cream with the cake and they curled back up on the couch. This time Draco sat too close to Potter, but he didn’t seem to mind at all.

“What kind of icing is this?”

“Whipped cream.” Draco answered, licking some off his spoon.

“It’s fantastic.”

“Thank you.” Draco said, his chest puffing up a bit.

“What’s your favorite icing?”

“Probably this one.” Draco answered.

“I like cream cheese icing.”

Draco smiled, “I’ll remember that—chocolate cake?”

Potter snorted, “Absolutely. Fucking love chocolate. You?”

“Chocolate.” Draco agreed.

“But I like brownies better than cake.”

“Are you hating on my cake?” Draco asked, sounding scandalized.

“Absolutely not.” Potter took another bite, “It’s delicious. But obviously in a room full of desserts, I’d grab the—

“Treacle tart.” Draco finished.

Potter raised a brow, “You know my favorite dessert.”

“Everyone knows your favorite dessert.” Draco said, waving his fork, “It’s in nearly every issue of Witch Weekly.”

“You read the articles about me?” Potter sounded smug.

“Yes, I cut them out and wallpaper my room with them.” Draco said flatly, making Potter laugh. His head was tipped back and Draco got to stare as he laughed. It made him feel so light it made Draco laugh as he ate another bit of cake.

And then he remembered Rachel. Rachel who would never laugh again, or eat chocolate cake again, or grow up. Draco put his plate down, the dessert tasting like ash in his mouth.

“Hey.” Potter called to him, putting his plate down next to Draco’s and touching his arm, “Don’t do that. You’re allowed to be happy.” Draco didn’t think so.

“I think I need some sleep.” Draco said to defer the conversation, grabbing the two plates and walking into the kitchen. They were quiet as they cleaned up the last two plates.

“D-do you mind staying?” Draco asked quietly, “I just—don’t want to be alone.”

“Sure.” Potter said easily, pushing the buttons on the dishwasher to make it run and closing it.

“The sheets are in the coffee table, as well as an extra pillow.” Draco said awkwardly.

“Alright.” Potter said, his wand coming out. He flicked his wrist and the sheets came out of the coffee table and made themselves on the couch. It was a bit sloppy, but perfectly capable of sleeping in.

“Goodnight Potter.” Draco said, trying to put physical distance between them.

“Night Malfoy.” Potter said just before he pulled his flannel over his head. Draco shut the door, his heart pounding. He was glad Potter was staying because he was afraid what he would get up to alone, but Potter staying wasn’t the best thing either. He really wished Hermione hadn’t abandoned him this weekend. Of all bloody weekends to have a getaway.

Draco curled up in his bed, pulling the sheet up to his chin. He could hear Potter tinkering around out in the living room, and it let him relax enough to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the love


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comfort and nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. My professional life has been chaos... which just makes me tired. So if my editing isn't the best, I am trying to do this with one eye closed before bed. :) Hope you enjoy.

At first Draco wasn’t quite sure what woke him up, but another scream made him snap up. He reached over to his nightstand to grab his wand, instantly on his feet. Another yell and he ripped open the door and expected to find bedlam in his living room. It takes him a few seconds to realize that there is no imminent harm, Potter is just screaming.

Screaming from a nightmare. The conclusion comes a second later. In his sleep hazy mind, he is still coming to his senses. He paused for a second before walking around to the side of the couch. Potter is sweating, the sheets are twisted up and half cast off to the side.

“No.” Potter grumbled before twisting over, “ _Please_.”

“Potter.” Draco called, feeling a bit awkward as he put his wand down on the coffee table. Potter twisted and turned but doesn’t wake up. He screamed again, so Draco grasped Potter’s shoulders, “Potter!” He said again, louder and shaking him a bit.

Potter opened his eyes, his green eyes a bit disarming without his glasses. It was clear he was still in the realm of in between dream and reality.

“It’s me. You’re in my flat.” Draco said calmly. Potter sat up, Draco still had one arm on his shoulder as he sat down on the couch. Potter’s breathing slowed down. Since Potter seemed to remember where he was, Draco used his wand to bring over a glass of water. Potter chugged the water, grabbing a coaster to put the water glass down. He let out a long breath.

“Sorry.” He said, “I don’t get them as much anymore—but I do when I’ve had a difficult day.”

“I get them too.” Draco admitted.

Potter nodded, drinking more of his water. Now that it was more relaxed, Draco’s eyes wandered over Potter’s chest. He found a new tattoo spread right underneath the stag. _Expecto Patronum_ was written in elegant script.

“When did you get it?” Draco asked when he got caught staring.

“A week ago.” Potter answered

“Why do you get them?” Draco asked.

“I have a lot of scars I didn’t choose, and some I did choose—it’s nice to choose to put art on my body.” Potter answered.

“They’re beautiful.” Draco said.

Potter blushed, “Thank you.”

“I thought you had a dragon tattoo.”

That made Potter laugh, “No. That was a rumor started—I think sixth year? Maybe fifth? I don’t have a dragon tattoo.”

“Why name your tattoo Prongs?” Draco asked, starting at the tattoo. The deer tilted his head back at Draco.

“My dad’s animagus was a stag. When he was in school, he and his friends had nicknames. He went by Prongs, Sirius was Padfoot because he was a dog. Moony was Lupin and then Wormtail.”

“Because he was a rat.” Draco finished.

“Yeah.” Potter let out a harsh breath.

“And the lilies are for your mum.” Draco got back on a happier topic.

“Yes.” Potter confirmed.

“So you have _expecto patronum_ written here, but the stag isn’t for your patronus.”

“No but, it sort of goes both ways. Stag is protected me many times.” Potter acquiesced.

“And the phoenix?”

“He’s protected me too—Fawkes saved me second year. But I like the idea of being reborn out of ashes. The phoenix was the first tattoo I got, a few weeks after the war ended. I sort of wanted something to remind myself that there could be life out of destruction.”

“Oh.” Draco frowned.

“I wasn’t in a great place at the time. Hermione almost killed me when she saw I got a tattoo—she was certain I’d regret it. But I only loved it more as I got mentally better, and then I got the stag with lilies about a year later.”

“You’ll get more?” Draco asked.

“Yeah. I quite like getting them—the needles. For some reason I find it soothing. I space them out so I’ll have skin by the time I get old. But I do want a bunch.”

“Any more planned?” Draco asked.

Potter nodded, “But I go through hundreds of ideas before I settle on one. Then I book my appointment and show her my ideas, and then she takes my inspiration and gives me some ideas back.”

“She?”

“It’s a woman who has done my tattoos.”

“Same person?”

“Yeah. Found her through Charlie Weasley actually. She works in France, so I have to travel to her. But I like it. Gives me a chance to get in a good head space.”

“Do I know Charlie Weasley?”

“Probably not. He works in Romania with Dragons.”

“Oh.” Draco leaned back against the couch.

“Can I see yours?” Potter asked. Draco stiffened, “Sorry—I shouldn’t have—” Potter shut up when Draco held out his arm, he had to move around a bit since his left arm was on the opposite side of his body. He sat on the couch a bit more, adjusting a bit. Potter touched it lightly, his fingers ghosting over the snake. Draco flinched, but then let Potter continue, “It doesn’t feel different—I thought it would.”

“It did when he was alive—but only when he would call.” Draco admitted, “It raised a bit when it moved.” Potter moved one more swipe of his finger before letting Draco go.

“I’ve never seen one up close before.” Potter admitted, sitting back.

“Glad I could satiate your curiosity.” Draco said bitterly.

“D-don’t say it like that.” Potter whispered.

Tension filled the room and Draco was suddenly aware they were both just wearing their boxers. He immediately stood up, “I’m going to bed. Night Potter.”

“Malfoy.” Potter called to him as he walked to his room and slammed the door shut. Draco was shaking as he curled up in the covers, feeling better now he was curled up under the blanket, “Malfoy.” Potter pushed the door open. Draco looked down at the door.

“I didn’t say you could come in.” Draco said, sitting up.

“I know—I’m sorry.” Potter rubbed his arm a bit, “But—I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have asked to see your Dark Mark.”

Draco scrunched his brow, “I’m not mad about that—it’s fine.”

“Then—why are you angry?” Potter asked, sounding dejected. He sat down on Draco’s bed. Too close to Draco.

“I’m not angry Potter.” But even Draco didn’t believe it with the tone he said it in. He huffed, “I’m not angry at you.” He corrected.

“Then why are you upset?” Potter asked, his face looked so _fucking_ earnest. He must have grabbed his glasses and put them on before he came into Draco’s room. But even behind glasses, his eyes looked into Draco. The eye contact was enough to have Draco feeling tension all over again but this time he had nowhere to retreat. Draco made a sort of exasperated sound before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Potter’s lips.

“That’s why I’m ang—umf!” Potter kissed him back. He kissed like he did everything else. It made Draco’s toes curl at the intensity. Draco took the chance to drag his fingers through Potter’s hair, he had wanted to so many times he wouldn’t let the opportunity pass by. Potter made a small sound of pleasure, moving closer to Draco. The movement made their lips break contact, “This is a terrible idea.”

“Doesn’t feel like one.” Potter said, gracefully moving to straddling Draco’s lap. Draco pulled Potter to him, wrapping his arms around his back. His skin was hot to the touch and it moved so elegantly under his fingers. Potter’s kiss was too distracting to do much else than enjoy it. Draco pulled his legs up to push Potter closer. Feeling Potter’s chest against his own made Draco groan. Draco moved his hands down Potter’s back and grasped his pant-covered arse. Potter groaned, his head dipping back as he ground into Draco. Potter was about half hard, grinding down onto Draco. Draco grasped Potter firmly, moving him on his back.

The kissing only became more desperate and a bit filthier. It was so intense it made Draco wonder if his insides could melt from the heat. Potter’s hands pulled Draco tighter to him and Draco’s legs slotted right between Potter’s.

“Oh _fuck_.” Potter groaned on a particularly pleasurable roll of the hips.

“Don’t you dare come in your pants like a teenager.” Draco said, but he wasn’t sure if he could stop himself either. Every inch of his body felt like it was tingling, his mind was spiraling out of control on pleasure.

“Well then stop _doing that_.” Potter moaned.

“It—if we’re doing this, I want to at least fuck.” Draco said.

“Ok. Let’s do that.” Potter said, nodding eagerly. Draco guided Potter’s hands to the headboard. He needed to keep his head clear. Potter seemed to get the idea, leaving his arms above his head as Draco kissed down his sternum.

“I want to fuck you.” Draco mumbled into his chest, kissing down his abs.

Potter arched up into Draco’s kiss, “Yes please.” Potter begged, and Draco hadn’t even done much yet. He was glad Potter seemed just as affected as he was. Draco slipped his fingers under his boxers and pulled them down. Potter pulled up his knees so Draco could toss them to the side. Potter was on the bigger side. Not the largest Draco had ever seen, but definitely something to be proud of.

“Fuck.” Draco said, reaching down to wrap his fingers around Potter’s cock. He wiped the bit of precum from the tip, and Potter’s hips jumped up to the touch.

“Fucking _hell_.” Potter groaned. Draco moved his hand over Potter’s cock in a slow pace, watching Potter’s facial expression positively _melt_. He couldn’t quite believe that Potter was there, lying in his bed and letting Draco stroke his cock. It was right in front of him, but he was still having trouble believing it.

“Is this why you were so cocky Potter?” Draco asked with a smirk.

Potter laughed, “No—I’ve seen bigger.”

“Who?” Draco asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Neville, actually.”

“You fucked Longbottom?” Draco asked.

Potter snorted, “No. He’s very straight. Unfortunately.” The last part was moaned as Draco tugged, “I showed you mine.” Potter said with a pout.

Draco quirked an eyebrow, but pulled off his own boxers, tossing them to the side. Potter sat up, his large hand wrapping around Draco’s cock. His grip was hot and he pulled _deliciously_. All the work he had done to clear his head had been useless. One touch from Potter and Draco was trembling.

“Should I pull out the measuring stick?” Draco asked and Potter chuckled. The sound reverberated through Draco because of how close they were sitting.

“I don’t think my ego could take it.” Potter said, kissing along Draco’s chest.

“Just a little tighter.” Draco said breathlessly. Potter adjusted his grip and Draco moaned, “Yes—just like that— _fuck_.” Potter had latched onto his neck, and Draco just loved when he nipped that spot on his jugular.

“Don’t come. I want you to fuck me.” Potter said.

“Ok.” Draco let out a whoosh of breath, pushing Potter back, “Then keep your hands to yourself.”

“Why?” Potter asked, looking a bit too arrogant as he put them above his head. Draco situated himself between Potter’s legs, spreading them out so he could see him. He leaned over to his bedside table and grabbed the lube out of the top drawer. Draco poured a bit into his hand.

“They’re distracting.” Draco said, which only made Potter’s smile larger. He shut that smile up by running his index finger down Potter’s hole. It fluttered beneath his touch, but Draco didn’t penetrate. He made slow circles around his hole. Draco watched Potter’s face, losing himself in the pleasure of the moment. Potter pulled up his leg, trying to entice Draco further. It did make Draco look away from Potter’s face and down.

_Fuck_.

Potter was hard against his stomach, his cock had precum on the tip. He was trimmed close, clearly took care of himself. His arse fluttered against Draco, so he pushed his index finger in. Potter moaned, pushing back easily on his finger as Draco moved it slowly in and out of him. If Draco thought Potter’s skin was hot, inside of him was an inferno. He was tight and clenched down on Draco, making his own cock jump in eagerness.

“So tight Potter. When’s the last time you did this?” Draco asked, barely managing to tear away his view to look at Potter’s face.

“I’ve been going through a woman phase recently.” Potter said with a groan as Draco moved his finger, “I-I forgot how good this feels.” His voice was a bit breathless. Draco was glad he was making Potter fall apart.

“Didn’t find a woman who would peg you?”

“You’d be surprised how many women find it distasteful.” Potter said with a scrunch of his nose. If he could articulate that much, Draco needed to up the ante. Draco pushed in two fingers and Potter groaned, his legs widening more. There were disgusting little slurping sounds from the lube that just turned Draco on even more. Draco watched his own fingers move in and out of Potter. Harry Potter. The guy who was lying in his bed. Draco made scissoring motions, looking up to see Potter’s face. Potter’s hands were pushed flat against the headboard, his hands going white from pressing them up so much. Potter fucked himself on Draco’s fingers. Draco became enamored, watching them move in and out that he forgot who was in charge of this situation. He smacked Potter’s thigh, the loud sound reverberating around the room.

“Stop moving.” Draco ordered.

“Put your cock in me.” Potter ordered.

“Not yet.” Draco said, “I want to open you up. You’re so tight. Want to pull you apart so sweetly. Don’t you want that? I want to just slip right into you by the time I’m through.” Potter groaned, his hand moving down to touch his cock. Draco swatted it before he could.

“Are you going to be difficult this entire time? Good boys get rewarded.” Draco said with a smirk.

“I can be good.” Potter said with a smirk, “I’ve heard I’m golden.”

“Boo!” Draco said with a laugh, “That was terrible.” But he leaned down and kissed Potter, still smiling into the kiss. Draco sat back up, pushing three fingers into Potter. Draco kept his pace slow, widening Potter’s stance a bit so he could see more. Draco loved watching, loved watching his fingers go into Potter. It felt more real.

“Are you ever going to fuck me?” Potter asked.

“I don’t know. I sort of like this view.” Draco said, grinning up at Potter.

“You can fuck me with your fingers later.” Potter said, using the headboard as leverage to impale himself, “I want your cock.”

Draco smiled, “Say it again.”

“Malfoy.” Potter groaned, “Please put your cock inside me.” He said it so sweetly too. Draco adjusted his stance, moving between Potter’s legs.

“How do you want it?” Draco asked, running his cock along Potter’s hole.

“I want to see you.” Potter moaned.

Draco nodded, adjusting Potter’s legs a bit. He grabbed a pillow and put it under Potter’s arse before pushing inside. He just pushed through the first ring of muscles rather easily, but Draco still moaned. Potter was hot. _Tight_. There was no way Draco was going to survive this.

“You trying to kill me?” Potter asked, his voice sounded broken. Good. Draco felt the same way.

“I was thinking the same thing.” Draco said, pushing inside further. Both men moaned at the added contact. And then Draco was fully seated inside of Potter. Both were breathing a bit erratically, “Holy fuck.” Draco said, looking down.

This was real.

Draco leaned down and kissed Potter just to make sure. Potter wound his one hand through Draco’s hair, the other hand he wrapped around Draco’s back.

“Holy _fuck_.” Draco said again.

Potter snorted, his grin too sexy, “Fuck me now.”

“I can’t quite believe I’m fucking you right now.” Draco countered, winding his fingers through Potter’s before thrusting.

“Oh _fuck_ yes.” Potter gasped as Draco moved. He sat back on his legs, tossing one of Potter’s legs over his shoulder. The deeper angle made Potter groan, his hands went back to brace himself on the headboard, “I won’t break.” Potter told him.

Draco started fucking him for all he was worth. Watching Potter positively melt beneath him was a privilege. His hair was all over the place and he had started to glisten with sweat. His eyes were sort of glazed over as Draco continued to thrust. Draco bent both legs over Potter, bending him over to hit the sweet spot inside of him.

“ _Ohgodyes_.” Potter gasped, “ _Pleasedon’tstop_.” He was making these tiny little gasping sounds at every thrust, looking completely debauched. One hand left the headboard to stroke himself, “I’m gunna come.”

“Oh thank Merlin.” Draco couldn’t help but say. He had his toes clenched tight from the effort of not coming, his jaw hurt from clenching his teeth.

“I’m so close.” Potter whispered, arching his back a bit more, “Oh please don’t stop.” Potter’s cock was getting harder as he stroked it, arching up as he got closer to his orgasm. His hand was moving in a blur over his cock, twisting his wrist slightly at the end.

“I want to see you come Potter.” Draco growled. “Fall apart for me. Fall apart around my cock.”

Another thrust and Potter started to come all over his stomach. It spread up his chest, coming out in long shoots. His head was tipped back and his green eyes were rolled back in his head. Draco picked up his pace, feeling his own orgasm just strokes away.

“Fill me up.” Potter demanded, “Fuck _me_.” Potter clenched down on him and that’s all it took for Draco to fall over the edge. Draco closed his eyes, gripping Potter’s hips tightly as waves crashed through. His hips moved erratically, but kept moving. He might of moaned Potter’s name, but he couldn’t be held accountable to that. When he couldn’t come anymore, he collapsed on top of Potter. He didn’t expect the kisses that wouldn’t stop. They made him feel warm, despite the fact that he felt wrung out from his orgasm. Potter’s large hands wrapped around his back, pulling him as close as possible.

“Holy fuck.” Draco murmured, pulling away. His lips felt chapped, but he couldn’t have cared less, “I fucked Potter.”

“Yeah you did.” Potter said with a happy sigh as he leaned over Draco to grab his wand on the side table. A quick spell and they were both clean, “Fucked him well and good too.” Draco snorted and Potter kissed him before falling on his back, “I’m not leaving this bed.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” Draco said with a smile, turning over a bit to look at Potter.

“And I like snuggling.” Potter told him, making Draco scrunch up his nose.

“That’s just a terrible word.” Draco said, moving away from Potter, “and I don’t think I want your limbs all over me.”

“Oh yes you do.” Potter said, reaching out to pull him close. Draco managed to dodge one arm, but he only moved closer and launched another attack. Soon Draco was tangled in Potter’s limbs, pressing kisses to every bit of skin he could access. One last kiss was pressed to Draco’s lips before Potter burrowed down into his chest. Draco fell asleep to Potter’s steady breathing.

 

When Draco woke up, he did sort of expect to find his bed empty. He wasn’t sure why he expected it. Maybe he thought Potter would come to his senses in the night. But Potter hadn’t. He was lying on his stomach, still naked, facing away from Draco. His arm was under his pillow, his other hand off the side of the bed. Draco sat up a bit, looking at the Phoenix on Potter’s back. It noticed Draco and preened a bit, showing off his feathers. Potter turned in his sleep, and Draco was quiet for a moment, but all Potter did was turn his head to face Draco—still asleep. Draco wanted to reach out and touch Potter, but he wasn’t sure if he should. Did Potter not freak out because he hadn’t had the chance? What if the only reason he slept with Draco was because he needed physical comfort after his nightmare?

“Are you just going to stare at me?” Potter mumbled, his voice hoarse from sleep.

“Wondering how I should tie you up to make you my sex slave.” Draco answered.

“I’d be a very willing sex slave, you don’t _have_ to use ties.” Potter opened his eyes, dancing with amusement, “But ties are encouraged.”

“You’d let _me_ tie you up?” Draco asked, his tone lacking lightness, “Me. Former Death Eater.”

Potter sat up a bit, “I didn’t realize you were insecure in the morning.”

Draco frowned and looked down at his lap, “Not insecure—self aware.”

“Malfoy?” Potter said, tapping his leg so he would turn to him. Potter sat up a bit and pressed his lips to Draco’s. It was a bit of a weird angle, but they made it work. Potter sat up next to him, “Can I make you breakfast?”

“Yeah.” Malfoy whispered. Potter nudged his nose along his jaw line, so Draco turned into the kiss. He wasn’t sure why he was ok with kissing Potter before he brushed his teeth, but he did enjoy the easy kiss. It wasn’t meant to do anything but comfort him.

 

They spent the entire day together. Potter asked him questions and Draco eventually answered them. They spent most of the day in their boxers, abandoning food for blowjobs or fucking and then abandoning sexual escapades for food when they were worn out. Potter hadn’t seemed to mind bottoming, so they stuck with that. Then the day turned into night again, and Draco found himself sleeping yet again next to the Savior of the Wizarding World.

On Sunday, Draco kicked him out. Hermione would be back any minute, and he didn’t want her to come home to find him fucking her best friend. Which is exactly what he told Potter to get him to leave.

“It’s sort of cute that you’re prioritizing her.” Potter said with a ridiculous smile on his face as he pulled on a set of boxers that were definitely one of Draco’s, “I’ve been stuck here two days! I need new underwear.”

“And you’re wearing mine? That’s disgusting.”

“You’ve had your prick up my arse for two days. I think clean underwear are the least of my worries.”

“You’re a menace.” Draco said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “She will be here any minute. If you’re here, I will murder you.”

“I could just be hanging out here.”

“Nope. You need to leave.” Draco said strongly, pointing at the door.

“Fine.” Potter still had a grin on his face as he leaned over and kissed Draco as he buttoned up his jeans, “Seen my shirt?”

“Out on the couch.”

“You should clean the sheets on that couch.”

“They will be deep cleaned.” Draco confirmed. They had sex at least twice on that couch.

“When will I see you next?” Potter asked, walking into the living room and grabbing his flannel.

“Never, if you don’t leave here.” Draco spelled the sheets to go in the washing machine, it started on it’s own.

“Malfoy.” Potter whined with his lip pouting. Draco couldn’t help but capture it. Potter smiled into the kiss, wrapping his arm around Draco’s shoulders.

“Fuck off.” Draco said with a laugh, “Go! I don’t want to have to murder you.”

“Owl me.” Potter said.

“Fuck no.”

“We’re doing this again.” Potter told him, still with a smile on his face. Draco kissed him once more before shoving him out the door as the floo went off.

 

“Wow. Smells like sex in here.” Hermione said with a raised brow at Draco.

“Well you were having your own sex marathon, I got jealous.” Draco said easily.

“Where is she? He?” Hermione asked, casting a spell to freshen up the place.

“Nosy.”

“Of course.” Hermione said, hopping up on a barstool, “You usually run your escapades out the door the next morning.”

“Only so they don’t frighten you. They are all horribly evil.” Draco said with a sigh.

“Sounds like they would be afraid of me.”

Draco frowned, “That too.” That was actually true of some of the people he brought home—not that he would ever tell Hermione that.

“Want to tell me how good they were over dinner?”

“He was a very excellent fuck.” Draco said, not sure if he should give Hermione details since it was her best friend.

“You going to see him again?”

“I don’t know—it’s complicated.” Draco said, firing up the oven.

“It’s always complicated.” Hermione said with a sigh, “It was for Ron and I.”

“How was that complicated?”

“Best friend of how many years? I only have two friends.”

“You have more than two friends.” Draco said, “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Fine. Two best friends.”

“I am not your best friend?”

“Not when I started snogging Ron.”

Draco grinned, “I’m your best friend now?”

“Best friend is more of a tier, not a title.” Hermione said.

Draco frowned, “Fine. I’ll share my throne.”

“What were we talking about?”

“How it was complicated for you and freckles to get together.”

“It was complicated—and scary. I didn’t want what I had with him to go away. And then he was an arse when we did actually show some sort of affection for one another, and got very jealous. But it worked out in the end.”

“Who was he jealous of?” Draco asked, moving around the kitchen.

“If you talk to him about this, I will murder you Draco.” She said very seriously.

“I swear to Salazar, I will never talk to the Weasel about this. We hardly ever talk.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “He was jealous of Harry.”

“Always second fiddle.” Draco said with a nod.

“Yes. He’s also the youngest son—so he plays second fiddle a lot. So I guess he never really thought that I would like him, or would stay with him.”

“He doesn’t seem like the jealous type now.”

“No—and he was never jealous of anyone other than Harry.”

“He didn’t want you to live with me.”

“That wasn’t because he thought you wanted to snog me.”

“That was because he thought I was going to call you mean things and hex you constantly.”

“Precisely.” Hermione tucked her hair behind her ears, “Now out with it—tell me about your shag fest. Or I’ll start talking about mine.”

Draco cringed, “No thank you. I doubt the Weasel would win any awards in a shag fest.”

“Actually Ron is quite good.” Hermione said with a smirk, looking very confident.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Draco said wryly as he continued to make dinner for the two of them.

“So tell me!” Hermione said.

“He was an excellent shag—he came over on Friday. I didn’t quite expect him to want to stay until Sunday but he did. Saturday we just hung out, shagged and talked. He asked me lots of questions about my job. Seemed to like it when I talked about it actually. Gives great head—that was sort of intimidating actually.”

“Surely there are worse things.” Hermione said seriously. Then smiled, “He wants to see you again?”

“Yeah.” Draco smiled, “Not sure why.”

“You should be more confident Draco.” Hermione chastised.

“I’m confident—just realistic. I’m a former Death Eater. I don’t exactly have lines of people wanting date me—plenty wanting a bad boy for the evening.”

“Well if he wants to see you again—give him more credit than that.”

Draco bit his lower lip, “It’s complicated.” He said again.

“Sometimes complicated makes things better.” Hermione told him. Draco looked down at the food in the pan, frowning a bit, “You can see how it goes. I know it isn’t like you to not control something—but you can’t really control this.”

Draco pointed at her with his spatula, “Pot—kettle.”

She laughed, “I know. And when I did let go of control a bit, I ended up with Ron.”

“This isn’t a good sales pitch.” Draco warned her.

She giggled, “You know what I mean—just don’t be afraid to let things go for awhile, just to see what happens.”

“If it all goes terrible—it’s your fault.” Draco said with a sigh.

“You can say I told you so when I buy you ice cream.”

“I’m not a _girl._ Just because a relationship went bad doesn’t mean I want ice cream.”

“Draco, you love ice cream.” Hermione said with a sigh, rolling her eyes as he slid her a plate of food.

“I just don’t like fulfilling stereotypes.”

“Draco, you never do.” Hermione said with a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> best friend as a tier was taken from the Mindy Project... I love that line.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miscommunications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caedes aren't you out on a Saturday night? Well... usually if I'm being honest. But not tonight. Tonight I write and slave away... ok, that was dramatic. I just needed a weekend in... so I'm posting on a Saturday. 
> 
> However, I have had more than one glass of Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey (so good). So if you see a blaring editing mistake... blame it on Jack. Not me. :) 
> 
> Please enjoy.

Despite his conversation with Hermione, he didn’t run off to write a letter to Potter. He let it sink in for a few days. He went to the hospital and did his rounds, trying not to think about how Potter trembled beneath him. He flipped through Dark Arts curse books trying not to think about how Potter moaned.

So he lasted until Friday.

He owled Potter early Friday and asked if he needed any help on Rachel’s case. Potter replied he would be working late on Friday and would need his assistance around six thirty.

Draco arrived in the ministry with a ‘Guest of Auror Potter’ badge. Potter met him in front of the auror offices.

“I need you to come this way Malfoy.” Potter said very professionally. They walked back through a row of desks and made a left into Potter’s office. It was split in two, Harry’s partner was sitting at his desk.

“Glad you could make the effort to come in Malfoy.” Pope said, “Potter said you were coming here tonight to answer a few questions.”

“Yeah.” Malfoy said, confused.

“Legal council is still going through it, but you may need to testify.”

“What?” Draco asked, suddenly not ok. Testify? Go back into those fucking courtrooms?

“You’re the only one that can testify to the long term abuse.” Potter said. Draco sat down.

“I don’t want to do that unless I have to.” Draco had come hoping to bend Potter over his desk, not to talk about this. Fuck. Maybe Potter had thought he was serious in his letter. He probably did. Gryffindors had no sense of subtlety.

“Well, that’s comforting.” Pope said flatly.

“I’ll do it! Just don’t use me as your main witness!” Draco snapped, “I only have her medical records. Doesn’t prove the father did it, just that she was abused for an extended period of time!”

“Fine. That’s all we’ll need.”

“Is it is difficult case?” Draco asked.

“Rudger has a lot of connections.” Pope told him, “Connections to some organized crime, a few old school guards in Azkaban. His lawyer is a well known scumbag who defends people who did a lot more than him.”

“He called in a lot of favors.” Potter agreed.

“So he’s definitely guilty.”

“Which is why we need you to testify.” Pope told him, “Potter, I’m going to wrap up here.” He slammed his file shut and grabbed a few things. He left with a grunt to Potter.

“I’m so sorry.” Potter said as soon as he was gone.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the lobby?” Draco asked.

“I panicked! Your note—I didn’t know if I was reading too much into it! I thought you might be genuinely asking!” Potter said indignantly.

“I admit it wasn’t the best idea.” Draco ran his fingers through his hair, “I’m not used to this!”

“This?”

“I don’t know—trying to meet up with someone.” Draco hedged, his cheeks turning pink.

“It makes it a bit difficult given our living situations.” Potter said, he ran his fingers through his hair, “I thought—when you didn’t owl me—and then you sent that—I just thought you wanted to stay friends.”

“We were barely friends before.”

“I know—but—” Potter made a frustrated sound, “I didn’t hear from you and then got a very professionally worded letter. I’m sorry I didn’t understand.”

“Do you have plans for tonight then?” Draco asked.

“No—I wasn’t sure what this was about, so I figured I should keep my plans open.” Potter confessed with a small grin.

“Well—what should we do? Hermione is home this weekend so we can’t have sex at my place.” Draco said with a frown.

“So is Ron—he’s out drinking now though.” Harry pointed out, “And he sleeps like the dead. Plus there are silencing charms.”

“How do I get out?” Draco asked.

Potter smiled, “I have an invisibility cloak if you wake up after Ron wakes up—but he sleeps till eleven on the weekends or he is into work at eight in the morning. Either way you won’t see him.”

Draco grinned, “Alright, so where are you taking me to dinner?”

Potter snorted, kissing him softly, “Muggle London? I know a place.”

“Ok—come after me in ten minutes. Where should we meet?” Draco asked. Potter gave him cross streets he was familiar with and then let him leave. Draco walked to the apparating point out of the ministry, pulling off his robes and putting them in his wallet. He had a small wallet Hermione had given him for Christmas one year with an undetectable extension charm. It was a little difficult to put robes in a wallet, but he managed a way that would keep his robes from folding too harshly.

Potter managed to run late, which was truly a remarkable feat. He was wearing khakis and a button down.

“You were wearing that under your robes?” Potter asked, looking at him up and down.

“It’s a suit Potter.” Draco said, “You actually look like you tried this morning.”

“Had a meeting with a muggle this morning for a case, they tend to answer more questions if you look professional.”

“So I shouldn’t get used to this look?”

Potter grinned, “Depends on how much you like it.”

Draco smiled back, leaning in to kiss him. It felt so wonderful to melt into his embrace. One of Potter’s hands slipped under his suit jacket and set on his lower back. It was such a small movement, but the intimacy of it had Draco tingling.

“I do like you in blue.” Potter said. Draco was wearing a blue suit. It was on the lighter side of navy with a crisp white button down shirt, “Bit early yet for dinner, want to grab a drink at a pub?”

“I could use a drink.” Draco admitted.

“Come on.” Potter said, slipping his hand down into Draco’s and pulling him along. It was a bit Gryffindor to hold hands, but Draco didn’t mind it. He liked that here they didn’t have to hide—they could do what came naturally.

The pub was full of people who were just off work, so they fit in. Potter left him at a high top table to get drinks. Most people alone were looking at small muggle things in their hand, so Draco just looked around. Potter looked at ease around the muggles, coming back with Draco’s order and a beer for himself.

“Cheers.” He said with a smile, his face flush from being around so many people.

“What are all the muggles looking at?” Draco asked.

“What?”

“In their hands?”

“Oh! It’s a mobile—it’s sort of like a very adept Protean charm with a telephone and a library.”

“Library?”

“The internet is attached to it.”

“The internet?” Draco frowned.

“It’s sort of like a library that exists in data form. I’m a bit rubbish at explaining this. But you have access to thousands of books on them.” Potter assured him.”

“Do you have one?” Draco asked.

“Yes.” Potter said, pulling it out of his pocket, “Doesn’t work at the ministry, but I get messages elsewhere.”

“Hermione has one like this—but it’s a phone. I use it to order take out.” Draco said with a frown.

“Yes—but it can do more than that.” Potter said, clicking some buttons. He started typing ‘dragons’ and a picture of one showed up. Potter clicked something with his finger and there was an article about how dragons are mythical creatures.

“This is astounding.” Draco said, looking down at the phone, “If you could do this with wizard books—I could share information faster with other Healers.”

“I believe that is why this was invented at first—muggle doctors trying to share information faster. Now it has a bit of everything—including porn.” Potter smirked.

“Oh really? All from the small little device. No more having to owl order in things—I want a mobile.” Draco grinned.

“You learn to use mine and I’ll get you one for Christmas.” Potter teased, leaning in and kissing him briefly, “You can buy things from here too.”

“Sex toys?”

Potter snorted, “Yes.”

“Prove it.” Draco said with a frown. Potter made an exasperated sound that was somewhat amused. He slid the mobile toward himself and tapped at it for a few seconds. He slid it back over to Draco.

“You can scroll like this. Use your finger, but gently. If you tap it, it will click open on that item.” Potter said. Draco _very carefully_ ran his finger over the glass and it moved slightly.

“Merlin. Look at all these cocks!” Draco said, and Potter barked with laughter before taking a sip of his beer, “This one is pink! What the fuck? We don’t have any of these!”

“There’s sparkly ones, blue ones, human colored ones. Ribbed ones, glass ones.” Potter said. Draco kept scrolling with a scowl on his face.

“Potter—why haven’t you said anything about this before?”

“I had no idea you needed a dildo so badly.” Potter had a stupid grin on his face.

“Shut up. I could pull if I needed to.” Draco told him, elbowing his side, “This is—I feel betrayed. Wizards are not so creative with their dildos.” Draco put down the phone. Potter grabbed it and slid it into his pocket.

“They have other stuff too. Cock rings, vibrators, butt plugs, bondage equipment, gags.”

“Anything in green?” Draco asked, his voice a bit husky. Potter’s eye’s darkened.

“No, but plenty in maroon and gold.” Potter said with a smile.

Draco frowned, drinking some of his beer, “But you would look so good in green.” Draco took another sip, “What’s a vibrator?”

Potter slid out his phone again, “Hold out your hand.” Draco did as he was ordered and Potter put his phone in it. He moved something on his phone and it shook in his hand, “That’s what vibrating is—vibrators are cocks that do the same thing.”

Draco turned to Potter with a gleam in his eye, “I have so many ideas.”

Potter snorted, “I’m sure you do—come on, finish your beer. We have to get to dinner eventually.”

Draco still had more questions as he finished his beer. Asking them and Potter answered them to the best of his ability as he drank his own beer. When they walked back outside, Draco shivered. It was October, but it had been unseasonably warm today so he hadn’t bothered wearing a coat—especially since he wore robes. Now that night was falling, he was a bit cold. Potter wove his fingers through Draco’s as they started walking.

“Not too far.” Potter promised. They walked in amicable silence to the restaurant. Draco half expected the next place to be a pub as well, but it was a normal restaurant. It had adorable decorations and a romantic mood without being too romantic, “Hermione likes this restaurant.” They had to wait a bit for their table since it was busy, and then the hostess walked them back to their seat. It was a small booth in the back, and a bit out of the way.

“Any interesting Dark Arts cases today?” Potter asked as they sat down.

“No, just the usual flesh eating curses.” Draco said with a smile.

“Is that a thing?”

“Yes. Quite fun to fix actually.” Draco said as Potter scrunched up his brow in disgust, “Surprised you haven’t run into one. Seems like that’s something you would do.”

“I’ll have you know I haven’t been in St. Mungo’s since Kapped got injured.” Potter said proudly.

“That was only a few months ago.” Draco pointed out.

Potter was still grinning, “I have a count at work to see how long I’ve ever gone without injury. I think I’m just prone to it.”

“That happens when you go vaulting into danger head first.”

“I’m careful!” Potter said indignantly.

“I’m sure you’re as careful as you think is possible.” Draco said.

Potter frowned, “I just want to get the bad guy.”

Draco laughed, “You always do.”

 

Dinner was quite good. Draco knew why Hermione liked the restaurant. It was good food, good cocktails, good vibes. Conversation came easy with Potter, even about stuff that he thought would get a bit difficult. Potter seemed to brush of the past with ease.

It was a quiet as they left dinner, Potter had found his hand again.

“Do you think I’ll have to testify for Rachel?”

“Yes.” Potter said, and Draco flinched, “Why don’t you want to testify?”

“I—I haven’t been in a courtroom since my trial. I hadn’t been to the ministry until the ME’s office.”

“Fuck.” Potter grumbled, “I’m sorry—I didn’t think that through.”

“It’s ok. Why would you assume I hadn’t been back?” Draco asked with a sigh.

“I’ll be with you the whole time you testify.” Potter swore.

“When will I have to?”

“Not for a few weeks yet. Trial date hasn’t been set—he has been charged but we’re still going through preliminary stuff.” Draco nodded, “Want to go for a few more drinks? Or back to my place?” Potter asked.

“What time is it?” Draco asked, he hadn’t looked once.

“Nearly eleven.”

“How long did dinner go?” Draco asked, he had no idea they had been there that late.

“We got there at eight thirty?” Potter said, “Just about.”

Draco frowned, “I hadn’t realized we were there so long.”

“You have somewhere you have to be?” Potter asked.

Draco smiled, “Yes. It involves me without much on—I would have sworn you were invited.”

“I like you so much better without clothes.” Potter said with a grin, “I’ll side along you back to get through the wards.”

“What if the Weasel is there?” Draco asked, stepping away from Potter before he could apparate without thinking.

“He won’t be—but I’ll apparate us outside of the apartment and—

“No. Then if he’s there, it’s a bit weird that you aren’t apparating inside. You apparate in, I’ll apparate down the street. And if the door is open when I get there, I’ll know it’s fine to come in.”

Potter raised a brow but nodded, “Ok—you know where my apartment is?”

“Yeah. It’s the one on the corner.”

“Third floor flat.” Potter said before disapparating. Draco waited for as long as he could before following him. He was around the corner from Potter’s apartment, not sure what he was thinking as he walked toward the building. Why was he doing this in the first place?

Potter _was_ good in bed. So that had advantages. And they had a surprisingly good time that night. He was still thinking through all of it when he walked up the steps to Potter’s flat and the door was wide open.

“Potter.” Draco said softly as he walked through the door, but Potter scooped him up and pushed him against the wall. Draco let out a gasp as his back hit the wall. Potter’s hands held him up, Draco had never felt this light with a lover before.

“I’d like to fuck you.” Potter said between kisses.

“Ok.” Draco agreed easily. He probably would have agreed to anything Potter asked for at the moment, but Potter didn’t know that. Or at least Draco didn’t think he did, “Bedroom. You’re not fucking me against a wall.” Potter actually carried him to the room, which was impressive given that Draco was a bit taller than Potter. Not by much.

Potter closed the door with his foot, “Cast a silencing charm.” He said. Draco pulled Potter’s wand from his jean pocket and cast it at the door, letting it go and it clattered to the floor. Draco was dumped on the bed.

“This better not be a maroon comforter.” Draco said with a frown. It was folded up at the bottom of the bed.

“You don’t have to touch it.” Potter said, taking off Draco’s shoes and socks. It was odd having someone else do it, but not unpleasant. Potter took off his own socks and shoes. Potter pulled him to the edge of the bed, leaning over to kiss Draco. Fuck that man could kiss. He didn’t think he had ever met a better kisser. He kissed filthy and yet so pleasurably. Draco felt it all over his body.

“Up.” Draco shoved Potter, “I want to take off my jacket.”

“You just look so _good_ with it on.” Potter gushed, grinding into Draco.

“I promise I’ll fuck you with it on one time.” Draco said with a grin. This probably wasn’t a good idea—planning on fucking again. But he couldn’t help it.

“Ok.” Potter grinned, but helped Draco take off his suit jacket.

“Don’t throw it on the floor!” Draco yelled before Potter did, “Do you have a hanger?”

“Are you kidding?—no, not kidding. Yeah, I have a hanger.” Potter said with a laugh, pulling up off of Draco. He walked over to his closet and grabbed a hanger and put it on, “You’re very odd—do you know that?” Potter said after he hung up the jacket, moving back to bed.

“You’re odd.” Draco retaliated, “I mean—what is _that_ decoration?” There was some sort of odd feather contraption in the corner. It hung off the ceiling and was spinning slowly.

Potter snorted, “That’s from Luna.” He rolled his eyes, “It’s a wrackspurt trap.”

“Of course it is.” Draco said with a roll of his eyes as Potter kissed down his neck, unbuttoning his shirt.

“I’ll have you know, I am very prone to getting them. They make my brain fuzzy, so it was very kind of Luna to give me one.” Potter managed to unbutton his shirt and pull it off, “Don’t want my brain going fuzzy now do you?”

“If it’s not fuzzy, I’m not doing my job right.” Draco retorted, “and don’t throw the shirt on the ground!” He said it just as Potter tossed it to the side.

Potter laughed, reaching down to grab the shirt, “Ok your highness, do I have to hang up this too?”

“No—you can drape it on the chair.” Draco said.

“Let’s do your trousers too, because for Merlin’s sake they don’t even look wrinkled now.”

“It will just wrinkle being in this room.” Draco said, scrunching up his nose as Potter unbuckled him. Potter snorted as he pulled off his trousers and very carefully draped them over the chair. Draco pouted, “Now you’re wearing too many clothes.”

“Whose fault is that?” Potter said, moving back into bed.

“I’m sorry I don’t like my things to be wrinkly.” Draco said with a frown.

“I’m not sorry. You looked hot.” Potter said, and Draco grinned back. Draco unbuttoned Potter’s shirt, revealing the small patch of hair on his chest. He was kneeling between Draco’s legs.

“You’re so harry.” Draco said, kissing across his chest.

“I only seem harry because you aren’t.” Potter said, feeling along his chest. Draco tossed the shirt to the side and Potter didn’t flinch. He pulled Draco closer to his chest, his large hands wrapping around Draco’s back. Draco would never forget his hands pulling Draco closer, and how warm they were. The light mood dissipated as arousal grew.

“Off.” Draco demanded, pulling on Potter’s khakis. Potter pulled away for a few seconds, pulling them off. Draco couldn’t wait so he slipped his hand beneath his own pants and pulled on his cock.

“ _Fuck_.” Potter groaned. He tossed his trousers and pants aside in one fell swoop, “Flip over.” Potter ordered. When Draco disregarded the prompt in favor of stroking his own cock, Potter snarled and flipped him over forcefully. His boxers were pulled down with haste, tossed to the side. Potter pulled his hips up and pulled him apart with no concern if Draco was embarrassed or not. Draco tucked his head into his elbow, trying not to think about the fact that it was _Potter_ staring at his arsehole.

Draco couldn’t quite believe it as Potter kissed the knob above his arse, then moved slightly lower.

“ _Potter_.” Draco groaned in anticipation right before he licked along Draco’s hole.

Potter should definitely get another Order of Merlin. An Order of Merlin for arselicking. Draco didn’t know you could lose feelings in your legs out of sheer bliss. Draco didn’t realize the moaning sound was coming from him until he started begging for more. Potter eventually slipped one finger inside, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. Potter rubbed over his prostate with deliberate cruelty. Sparks went up Draco’s spine with ever movement. Draco had one hand down between his legs stroking slowly, but he had to let go to keep from coming. He never thought he would be able to come with just a tongue and finger between his legs.

“ _Potter_.” Draco groaned, “I’m going to die before you fuck me.”

“Just taking my time.” Potter said, kissing up his back. He pushed another finger inside. Draco pushed back on his fingers, arching his back. Potter’s hard cock was brushing up against Draco’s hip. Draco just let himself feel. He had come back off the edge, so he stroked his cock again in long slow strokes, “Want another finger?”

“No. I like the burn.” Draco said. He bit back a whimper as Potter withdrew his fingers, feeling empty. A door popped open and lube flew to Potter’s hand. He heard the lid pop and the slick sound of Potter coating his own cock. For some unknown reason, Potter decided to take for fucking ever. “Potter, if you don’t put your cock in me in the next five seconds—I’ll murder you. I fucking will.”

“Don’t want that.” Potter said, moving behind Draco. Draco braced his hands on the headboard as Potter slowly pushed inside. It had been awhile, so the burn was a bit more than what he was used to. His breathing was shallow, and Potter reached down to stroke Draco’s cock as he pushed the rest of the way in.

“Hell.” Draco let out a breath.

“You alright?” Potter asked, his voice deep as he slid his hands up Draco’s back.

“Think I was a bit too eager.”

Potter snorted, leaning over Draco and kissing down his back, “You definitely are.” The pain was dissipating, so he pushed back on Potter. Potter moaned, gripping Draco’s hips tightly. Potter slid out and pushed back inside.

“ _Yes_. Fuck right there.” Draco moaned, pushing back on Potter. Potter took the encouragement well, fucking Draco eagerly. Draco had one hand up on the headboard to keep from going head first into it and the other on his cock. He was going to come hard and fast if Potter kept up this pace. He was going right along Draco’s prostate and he could feel the orgasm curling up from his toes.

“Stop. Wait don’t come.” Potter ordered, stopping his hips.

“ _What_?” Draco cried out.

“Want to see your face.” Potter said, pulling out. Draco whimpered and feeling empty right before he was flipped over and pulled into Potter’s lap. He got situated quickly on his knees, sinking back down onto Potter’s cock. At this angle he felt so much deeper. His cock was trapped between their stomachs, if he pushed up into Potter it was _just_ enough friction on his cock.

Draco clutched Potter’s shoulders with every slow movement down. It wasn’t as frantic as a pace before, but Draco still felt the intensity. Potter kissed his open mouth as Draco gasped with every downward thrust.

“So-so fucking close.” Draco said, rocking back on Potter’s cock. If Potter tried to move again he would tie him to the bed and fuck himself on his cock. He didn’t increase the pace as he got closer to his orgasm. He sat up on his knees and sunk back down on Potter’s cock. _Fuck_. He was so close he almost tipped over the edge as his cock went along Potter’s stomach. It was painful pleasure as he danced on the edge of his orgasm. He clenched down tightly on Potter’s cock as he moved back up again and then slid down.

He grasped at Potter’s shoulders just as his orgasm broke, “ _Harry_.” Draco moaned, spurting in hot streaks all over the both of them. Potter continued to fuck up into him for a few more strokes and came with a soft moan. Draco didn’t have a chance to breathe before Potter’s lips were on his, collapsing them both back onto the bed as he was thoroughly kissed.

“Fucking hell.” Draco said out of breath as Potter kissed down his sternum.

“I don’t know if I like fucking you better or you fucking me.” Potter said against Draco’s chest.

“We will never have to decide that.” Draco said, looking down at Potter with a smirk. Potter crawled up his chest, kissing his lips.

“What do you usually tell people you do when you’re hooking up with them?” Potter asked, seemingly content to lie on top of Draco. Draco didn’t mind, despite the sweat, lube and stickiness. His back was definitely lying in his own precum from when Potter gave him a rim job. But he was too content to move at the moment.

“I tell them I top—I usually top in hookups.” He confessed.

“Me too.” Potter said, “But beyond hookups I like both.”

Draco nodded, “If we—if we’re doing this, fair warning, I _love_ bottoming when drunk.”

Potter smiled, “But on hookups you always top?”

“Well, drunk me doesn’t know if the person will be a good top. And a bad top is—well—terrible. As soon as I know it’s a good top—” Draco dragged off with a shrug.

“I’m a good top?” Potter asked with a waggle of his brows.

Draco snorted, “All you celebrities needing constant affirmation with your big egos.” Potter laughed, kissing his lips again.

“I think I’m the opposite. Eh—I dunno actually. Never really thought about what I prefer drunk in a relationship. I like both.”

“Who was your last relationship with?”

“Um—boy or girl?”

“Your most recent relationship.”

“Girl—Lindsey Green, plays for the Harpies.”

“Isn’t that awkward for the she Weasel?”

Potter smiled, “No, she set us up. We dated for three months but I broke it off.”

“Last male relationship?”

“Aleksander Genkov.” Potter answered.

“I remember seeing you two in the paper.” Draco said with a nod. Aleksander was the Keeper for the Bulgarian team. Gorgeous. He had dark hair and dark eyes, the two had been a very handsome couple. It was soon after Potter had outed himself to the Prophet.

“We dated for about nine months.” Potter said.

“Why’d you break up?”

Potter scrunched up his nose and sighed, “He’s a good guy, but he didn’t want kids.”

“So you broke up?”

“There were other things too. He didn’t like me being an auror, wanted me to quit and change jobs. But I love my job. He—wasn’t very good with me having nightmares. Sort of freaked him out. The nightmares were worse when I was dating him.” Draco nodded along, “What about your last relationships?” Potter asked.

“My last relationship was with Joseph Lawrence—he works at Gringotts. That was about six months ago? About? We dated for about the same amount of time.” Draco said.

“Why’d you break up?”

“He couldn’t get past my history.” Draco said shortly. That had been a bit of a nasty break up. He had sworn off dating for a while and only had one-night stands. Hermione had joked that they needed to give them gift baskets on their way out.

“Last female relationship?”

“Real one? Pansy.” He said.

Potter smiled, “What’s the difference between a real one and a fake one?”

“I’ve had girls around, but I don’t keep them around for long.” Draco admitted. He was starting to feel all the gross liquids dry against him, “Mind casting a cleaning charm?”

Potter nodded, he leaned off the bed a bit dangerously and reached for his wand. The effort to crawl on his hands was probably more than just getting up—but Draco understood the sentiment. He grabbed the wand and crawled back on top of Draco. He cast the spell and Draco sighed as he cast the one on the sheets too. Potter leaned forward and kissed Draco again, and Draco wove his fingers through Potter’s hair. Potter rolled off of him to the side.

“You’re staying.” Potter informed him, keeping an arm wrapped around his stomach.

“Then you better blow me in the morning.” Draco grumbled, pulling Potter up onto his chest. Draco wove his fingers through Potter’s hair and held him close as he fell asleep.

 

Draco opened his eyes and reached out to an empty bed. The bed was warm, so Potter couldn’t have gone far. He reached out to grab the wand by the bedside and cast a tempus charm—it was eight thirty in the morning. He could hear soft chatter from outside the room.

“I know what a silence charm means.” The weasel’s voice was teasing, “She sure did a number on you.” Draco scrunched up his nose and almost shouted out _He_.

_“He_ did.” Potter corrected and Draco smiled to himself, pulling the pillow closer.

“You gunna let this one stick around?” The Weasel asked.

“I want to—but it’s complicated.” Draco agreed with him so he didn’t really understand why he felt a bit let down by the comment.

“Don’t let complicated stop ya—where would Hermione and I be if we did?”

“Probably still bickering.” Potter said with a laugh.

“More bickering.” The Weasel said, “Sexual tension will do that.”

“Alright—well go have fun at the Shop then. Say hi to George.”

“I will—come in later today. I got new stuff to show ya.” The Weasel said before the door opened and shut. Potter moved around a bit before walking to the room. Draco looked at him as he opened the door. He was just wearing his pants and holding two cups of coffee.

“Black?” Draco asked as he sat up.

“Yes.”

“Like my soul.” Draco said as he accepted the coffee. Potter snorted, sitting down next to him in the bed.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Draco replied, sipping the hot coffee. Potter put his on the bedside table.

“I believe I promised a blowjob if you stayed the night.” Potter said with a grin, moving the blanket out of the way to reveal Draco’s naked body.

Draco had never sipped on coffee and gotten a blowjob before, but it was pretty fucking excellent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize smart phones weren't out until a bit later. But I took some creative liberties. Not sorry because I think it is hilarious. In my personal, unbiased, opinion.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunk-apades

It was Sunday afternoon when he went to see Blaise. He waltzed out of the floo with an ease he didn’t feel. He was surprised to see Longbottom there.

“Malfoy.” Longbottom greeted a bit coolly.

“Blaise here?” Draco asked.

“I’m here.” Blaise walked around the corner. It was always such a shame Blaise was straight, he was delicious looking. Not that Draco really saw Blaise like that—he just knew an attractive man when he saw one.

“Just came over to chat.” Draco said, plopping down on the chair by Longbottom.

“Neville and I just finished some work—I told the house elves to bring something up.”

“How’s business?” Draco asked, looking at Longbottom.

“Doing well.” Longbottom answered.

“I’m going to retire next year.” Blaise bragged.

“You’d never retire that soon.” Draco said with a roll of his eyes, “You’d pull your hair out in three days.”

“I wish I could be like my mother and just be content to sit around and murder my husbands.”

“That would require you to suck a cock long enough to get a husband.”

Blaise wrinkled his nose, “I’d marry women and kill them off instead.”

“Women are smarter, they’d figure out your scheme faster.” Longbottom pointed out, “And men don’t seem to care if a woman is crazy if she’s hot enough.”

“Speaking from personal experience?” Draco asked.

Longbottom got red, “I got drunk. I slept with a fan.” Draco peeled with laughter, and Longbottom had a smile on his face, “She was crazy. I got out of there real fast.”

“I didn’t realize there were drawbacks to being a savior.” Blaise said with a laugh.

“Oh there are. You can’t eat anywhere without someone taking your fucking picture. Just the other day I was re-doing the pots in front of The Three Broomsticks and they took a picture of me covered in dirt. I made the Paper the next day.” Longbottom shook his head, “It was worse right after the War ended. But as bad as it is for me, it’s much worse for Harry. He can’t sneeze without the Prophet wanting a picture. _Savior just like us! Picture of him sneezing page 10_.” He shook his head.

“Fuck.” Draco said. The panic he hadn’t let surface suddenly bubbling to the top.

“What?” Blaise turned to Draco.

“Oh hell.” Draco looked down at the ground, “Potter and I fucked.”

“What?” Blaise said again.

“It was an accident!” Draco looked to him.

“You don’t accidentally put your dick in someone.” Blaise said.

“He came over to mine last weekend—it just happened! Then we went on a date on Friday—”

“A date?” Blaise looked amused, “So you chose to go out with him after accidentally putting your dick in him?”

“Yes!” Draco shouted, “And he was pretty fucking fantastic—and I don’t know what to do about it.” Draco fell back on the ground.

“Harry is a great fuck.” Longbottom said and Draco sat up.

“He told me you guys didn’t fuck.”

Longbottom smiled, “We have never had any sort of sexual relationship. I’m straight. But I’ve heard the rumors.”

“You should not be here.” Draco pointed at him, “Potter is noble. Which means he will want to tell his friends, and so you shouldn’t know this. Can I obliviate you before you leave?”

“No.” Longbottom said flatly.

“Great. Now Potter is going to murder me.” Draco said, falling back on his back again, “I hope he fucks me while he does it.”

“You let him fuck you?” Blaise asked.

“Yes. Still sore.” Draco said with a sigh. He was so _pleasantly_ sore, “He’s got a nice size cock—though I hear Longbottoms is bigger.”

“Why were you talking about my cock size?” Longbottom asked with a sigh.

“I asked who was the biggest he’s ever seen.” Draco said, “The biggest I’ve seen is Blaise’s—so it’s a good thing you two are in business together.”

“Let’s get back on topic.” Blaise said with a chuckle, “Why are you freaking out about fucking Potter?”

Draco was quiet for a moment, “Because—because it isn’t fucking.” He made an exasperated sound, “I let him hold my hand.”

“Well, there’s just no turning back now is there.” Blaise sounded amused.

“This is going to end in disaster.”

“Might not—you guys were both chosen to be pawns by two powerful wizards in a war. Maybe if you both had the opportunity to talk it out, you would end up liking each other more. You’re both driven and successful in your own right.” Draco sat up to look at Longbottom and he shrugged, “You both like cock and fanny.”

“He sounds reasonable.” Draco said to Blaise.

“I know. That’s why I went into business with him.” Blaise said with a proud grin.

“So you’re saying I should date Potter?” Draco asked, “You. The guy that I bullied for years. Made it my mission to make your life miserable. Not to mention all the things I did to make Potter’s life miserable.”

“I’m saying you both have a lot in common. I’m not saying it’s a recipe for success, but it’s not one for disaster.” Longbottom shrugged, “If Harry is willing to try, then you should too.”

“Because he’s the Savior and I should date him because he should get everything he wants.”

“Yes.” Longbottom said, “And no. Harry deserves to get happy things and an easy life after everything he has been through. But I also think he deserves someone who _wants_ to be there.”

Draco frowned, “You’re right.” Draco pulled his legs up into himself, “But does he deserve the scrutiny he would be under with me? Assuming he would even want that.”

“To rob him of that choice is unfair too.” Longbottom pointed out, “And he could ask the same thing of you. Every move you make will be monitored if you want to date him publically. You always wanted fame, this would give you it.”

“I wanted it as a child—not now.” Draco said with a sigh.

“There’s a reason Harry likes to date Quidditch stars—they’re used to the pictures and the things they say in the Prophet. Aleksander used to keep a running tally on how many times Potter had an expose in the Prophet on the other woman in his life.”

“You liked Aleksander.” Draco accused.

“I did—until I didn’t.” Longbottom shrugged, “You can’t force Harry to do anything he doesn’t want to—and Aleksander never really understood that.”

Draco sighed, “I have a lot to think about.” He said as he went back down on his back. The house elves came in with some food, so the conversation shifted away. But Draco’s head was still whirring.

He couldn’t really imagine his life under such scrutiny. But he also couldn’t imagine walking away from Potter. Even thinking about it made him queasy.

 

That night he got an owl from Potter that he had been called away on assignment to the Middle East somewhere and wouldn’t be back for two weeks. In a weird way Draco was grateful that he had time to sort out his head before Potter came back into town. But even as he thought through all the options, he knew what he was going to do. He was going to give it a chance.

“You coming out tonight Draco?” Hermione asked him.

“I don’t have any plans.” Draco answered, sitting on one of the bar stools sipping on some firewhiskey. Hermione had just gotten off her shift at St. Mungo’s.

“Come get a few drinks with us.” Hermione said.

“Who’s us?”

“Neville, Luna, Ron and I—Blaise might come too, and probably Hannah.”

“Ok.” Draco said, not feeling as queasy around Longbottom since their conversation.

“Really?” Hermione said with a smile.

“Yes. Give me a minute to put clothes on.” Draco said as he walked into his room. He grabbed his dark wash jeans and a crisp white button down shirt. It was chilly in early November, so he grabbed his olive green coat as well. He looked in the mirror to make sure his hair was all right. It needed a few products to freshen up a bit, but nothing crazy. He hadn’t worn his hair slicked back since he went into Azkaban.

“You ready?” Hermione asked when he walked out.

“I am.” Draco confirmed with a smirk. She looked beautiful as well wearing dark jeans, a plum colored top and a leather jacket, “You look stunning.” He told her.

“Thank you.” She blushed.

He held out his arm, “Shall we?”

She took ahold of his arm and they apparated out.

 

They were headed to a bar they frequented in Muggle London. Somewhere off the beaten path from wizards and witches. The bar was more than just a pub, but a lot less than a club. There was music playing as they walked in.

“I see them—I’ll get first round. What do you want?” Draco asked.

“Vodka soda—don’t let them put in a lime. I don’t know where they’ve been.” Hermione said, and Draco nodded. He went up to the bar and ordered a whiskey neat and Hermione’s drink. He had some muggle money on him, so he paid with that. He walked over to the high top table everyone was standing around. Blaise was there, which pleased Draco. He slid Hermione her drink.

“This is huge!” She said with a smile.

“I got a double.” Draco gave her a wink.

“Hey! Back off my girl.” The Weasel said, wrapping his arm around her.

“I’m getting her drunk just for you Weasel.” Draco said, sipping some of his drink. He turned to Luna, “You are definitely the most interesting creature at this bar.” She was wearing an interesting outfit to be sure.

Luna grinned brightly, “Thank you.” The two launched into a conversation about her most recent trip. She had been gone tracking down some sort of animal in China somewhere and had been gone a few months. It was good to see her again. Draco acknowledged Longbottom with a tilt of his drink and he nodded back.

“Anyone need another round?” Weasel asked.

“I do.” Draco said.

“You still have most of your drink.” Weasel said.

Draco tipped his drink back, “No I don’t.”

“Fucking arse—anyone else?” There were a few more orders and the Weasel wandered off to the bar.

“His brothers should be here soon.” Hermione said.

“Which ones?” Neville asked.

“George and Charlie.” Hermione answered.

“What’s Charlie doing in town?” Luna asked.

“Just visiting.” Hermione said, “He’ll be back for Christmas though.”

“Can’t believe it’s nearly Christmas again.” Blaise let out with a whoosh of breath, “We have so much to do before then.”

“No work!” Luna said

Neville blushed, “I like plants.”

“We know.” Hermione said with a grin.

Ron passed out drinks with two gingers behind them. Draco recognized George instantly, the other one he didn’t so it had to be Charlie. He had an ear piercing and was wearing dragonhide. He looked like he just came out of a dive bar on a motorcycle. There were a few tattoos visible.

“Everyone this is Charlie if you haven’t met him yet—he’s younger than Bill in case anyone wants to know the order. And you know George.” George was looking at Draco with a hard glare, but Draco pretended not to notice as he sipped his drink.

“And him?” George asked, nodding at Draco.

“Don’t be an arse George. I’ve lived with Draco for three years.” Hermione said as she shrugged off her jacket, hanging it up on a hook under the table.

“And I’ve been a perfect gentleman the whole time.” Draco said, “Scouts honor.”

Blaise snorted, “Now I doubt that.”

“Draco is the best roommate I’ve ever had.” Hermione said without compunction.

“You’re making me blush.” Draco said with a grin, sipping his drink, “But you’re the best roommate I’ve ever had too.” He kissed her forehead.

“Oi!” Blaise said.

“Don’t yell at me—you’re messy as fuck.” Draco told Blaise, “And Hermione keeps to my organizational system.”

“You mean your absolutely insane need to keep everything in order?” Blaise said with a laugh.

“He was always like this?” Hermione asked.

“Yes. Bastard keeps his underwear drawer organized.” Blaise said.

“It is easy to find things though.” The Weasel said, and he looked just as surprised that he complimented Draco as Draco was, “I just mean—like cooking in their kitchen, it’s easy to find everything. It’s intuitive.” He shrugged, “Harry would back me up.”

“Where is Harry?” Charlie asked. _Don’t be jealous_. Draco wasn’t sure if Charlie was inclined to see men or not, but he thought Charlie might be. What if Potter had a thing for this Weasel?

“Just got home today actually—but he’s exhausted. He came home at like six and passed out after eating something.” Ron said. So Potter was back in town. Draco almost grinned in excitement, but refrained. He saw both Blaise and Longbottom flick their gaze toward him subtly but he didn’t acknowledge either of them. Conversation shifted, and Draco felt himself unwind. The night went on and Draco kept drinking.

“You are the guy that almost killed Ron.” Charlie came up to him later. The music was a lot louder than it had been when they first walked in. Draco winced.

“Yes.” Draco said.

“How’d you and Hermione start living together?”

“We both went back for Hogwarts our eighth year.” Draco answered, “I didn’t have any friends, for obvious reasons. She being a big Gryffindor wasn’t scared of me—and we had nearly all the same classes. And then we both wanted to be Healers.”

“And Ron let’s her live with you?”

“The Weasel doesn’t _let_ Hermione do anything.” Draco snapped, “She wanted to live with me, so now we do.”

“So you live with her to salvage your reputation.”

“If I was going to live with one of the Golden Trio to salvage my reputation, Hermione would be my last choice. She would have figured that out before we had even moved in together.” Draco pointed out.

“Charlie.” Hermione walked up, taking his arm, “Are you being mean?”

“I’m just asking questions.” Charlie told her with an easy grin. _Fuck_. Draco threw back the rest of his drink. He did not find a Weasley attractive. He did not find a Weasley attractive. He did _not_ find a Weasley attractive.

“He accused me of living with you to salvage my reputation.”

Hermione snorted, “I would have figured that out ages ago.”

Draco grinned, “That’s exactly what I said.” He looked at his drink, “I’m getting another—Hermione do you want one?”

“No thanks, just got one.” She tilted her cup.

“Charlie?”

He looked surprised Draco asked, “Another lager.” Draco was definitely feeling the alcohol as he came up to the bar. A woman with long dark hair said hello and Draco grinned. He soon found himself in a conversation about muggle medicine, the woman was a nurse. They conversed while Draco waited for his drink order, than tipped his head to her before walking off back to the table.

“She is your type.” Hermione said with a grin when he walked back.

“She’s a nurse.” Draco told her, handing Charlie his lager.

“Even more your type.”

“I’ll have you know I have never slept with a St. Mungo’s nurse.” He said with a frown.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “You don’t have to, they’ll fawn over you anyway.”

Draco smirked, he knew the young nurses liked him, “It’s the bad boy angle.” He told her.

“I believe I have that angle—you look too clean cut.” Charlie said with a laugh.

“Maybe with that muggle, but with anyone in the wizarding world.” Draco said.

Charlie nodded, “You should tell muggles you’re in the mob, they might believe you then.”

“But obviously I changed my life around, I’ve been a model citizen since I left.” Draco said, fixing the collar of his jacket.

Hermione snorted, “This narrative is doing wonders for your ego.”

Draco looked at the nurse at the bar, “Maybe I should give it a whirl, it _has_ been awhile since I slept with a woman.” He winked at Hermione before walking back up to the bar to talk to the girl.

The entire time he chatted with her, he tried not to think of Potter. But it was nearly impossible not to. The closer she stood, the casual touches made him want to back away. He continued to drink, which probably wasn’t the smartest move so he let her take him to the dance floor. The flashing lights started to play with his senses—he was definitely a bit drunk.

He walked away from the girl without really thinking about it. Hermione was with the Weasel.

“I’m going home.” He told Hermione.

“You pulled?” She asked.

Draco shook his head, “Na—don’t want to. You going back to our place?”

“Yeah—not yet though. You can get home?”

“Um—I was going to get a cab.” He told her.

“Ok—you have muggle money?” She asked. He opened his wallet and showed her, she flipped through it for a second, “Yeah, that’s enough. Ok. See you in the morning.”

“Night!” He said cheerfully.

“Draco? Are you sure you’re alright to go alone?”

“There’s a bunch of cabbies outside, I’ll be fine.” He said strongly. He didn’t want her assisting him. He had plans that didn’t involve her, but did involve her best friend. So he waved goodnight to her before tumbling outside. It was _cold_. It instantly sobered him up as he walked to a cab. He told the driver his address and then they were off.

He stumbled into his own apartment and barely looked at anything before going to the floo.

“Potter?” Draco called into the flames, looking around the flat. He saw Potter sitting on a barstool in his pants and an undershirt, “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“Shouldn’t you?” Potter called, “Come on through.” Draco stepped through the flames and into the room, stumbling as he did so. He caught it pretty quick, but Potter still had a smile on his face, “How pissed are you?”

“I’m a Malfoy. We never get pissed.” He said with a sneer, but he dipped his head and pressed a kiss against Potter’s lips.

“You taste like whiskey.” Potter said.

“That’s what I was drinking—I was out with your group of friends.”

“I figured. Is that lipstick?” Potter pointed at his neck.

Draco wiped his neck and some came off, “I was talking to some girl—pretty. Now I’m here.”

Potter smiled, “You could have pulled but you came here instead?”

“I met Charlie Weasley.” Draco told Potter to distract him, running his hands down his back, “And I absolutely do _not_ find him attractive.”

Potter laughed, but there was something in the background. Draco placed a finger on Potter’s lips. There was laughter coming up the stairs and Draco’s eyes got big, “Fuck!” He looked around, “I thought they were going back to my place.”

“Looks like they didn’t listen.”

“Come on!” Draco started dragging Potter toward his room. Potter laughed as he did.

“You could floo back home.” Potter said, closing his bedroom door just as the lock was rattling.

“I won’t get fucked at home.” Draco said, flipping his wand to silence the room right before launching an attack. The alcohol made the process of moving to Potter’s bed a bit like a whirlwind, but he managed to push Potter back on to the bed.

“What if I want you to do the fucking?” Potter asked, “I’m very tired from traveling.”

“Fine.” Draco huffed, taking off his shoes and throwing his jacket to the side and then sliding off his shoes, “I missed your arse anyway.”

Potter laughed, “You sound very disappointed.” Draco pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the side, “It’s going to wrinkle!”

“I don’t care.” Draco declared, stripping his jeans off as well before climbing into bed.

“You don’t care about your _wrinkled_ shirt?” Potter asked, sounding scandalized, and laughing into Draco’s kiss. Draco moaned as they slotted together and ground his growing erection against Potter’s. They were both still wearing their pants, but it still felt wonderful. Potter flipped him over onto his back, “I changed my mind, I want to fuck you.”

“Fuck yes you do!” Draco said excitedly and Potter snorted.

“You’re so chatty when drunk.” Potter giggled.

“Less talking, more fucking.” Draco moaned. Potter reached down and grabbed his pants, pulling them off with one yank, “That’s more like it.”

“Get on your knees and put your hands on the head board.” Potter ordered. Draco did as he was told, arching his back and wiggling his bum a bit as Potter grabbed the lube, “You really did miss me didn’t you?” Potter asked, running his fingers down Draco’s back.

“Don’t boost your own ego—I missed your cock.” Draco said, biting back a gasp as Potter pushed a finger into him.

“ _My_ cock.” He could hear the smile in Potter’s voice.

“I’m sure if you buy me one of your muggle toys I will go on my merry way.” Draco couldn’t quite keep his tone as flat as he wanted, Potter’s finger moved slowly in and out of him like he had all the time in the world. Potter snorted, so Draco knew his words weren’t taken seriously. Potter slid another finger inside and Draco dropped his head, pushing back on Potter’s fingers. He moved his fingers like a scissor, opening Draco up.

“Ready?” Potter asked.

“Fuck yes.” Draco groaned. Potter adjusted himself behind Draco, easing inside of him. Draco loved the feeling of the burn. The drunkenness took the edge off it a bit, “Oh fuck.” Draco palmed his own cock. A strong thrust made him use both hands to brace himself on the headboard, “Didn’t know you had it in you Potter.” Draco said with a laugh, “Thought all you knew how to do was sweet loving.”

Potter’s next thrust was even harder. Draco curled his toes, hoping he would unleash whatever Potter was holding back. Fuck. He loved a good fucking.

“Come on Potter!” Draco snapped when Potter went back to a slow pace, “Fuck like you mean it!” Potter smacked his arse, Draco yelped.

“Shut up Malfoy!” He pushed his back down, making Draco fall onto his face and arch his back. Another loud slap filled the room before Draco felt the sting. Potter’s pace was _grueling_. Draco could feel every inch of his cock tearing him open, his hands gripped his hips so strongly he was sure they would bruise. He put his hands above his head to keep from going into the headboard and it was difficult to breathe with his nose buried in a pillow. But fuck it felt so good. His orgasm was coming like a freight train as Potter fucked his prostate every time.

“Fuck yes! Just like that!” Draco yelled, another slap and he moaned. He wanted some friction on his cock, but it felt too good to move at the moment. Draco knew he was blabbing, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he went on and on about how much he loved cock.

Draco had a vague idea that his voice was going hoarse as he goaded Potter along, but all he could really think about is the tightness in his balls and how they got closer to the edge. Every time Potter slammed home, his cock would bounce along with it. He was debating risking one hand to stroke himself when Potter gripped the base of his cock tightly, Draco gasped in painful pleasure.

“Want to come Malfoy?” Potter asked.

“YES!” He yelled, “Oh yes _please_. Oh please, oh please, oh please.”

“You really are such a fucking cockslut when you’re drunk, aren’t you Malfoy?” Potter asked, slowing his pace but still thrusting hard, “You are just taking it like a good little whore.” Draco moaned, arching his back a bit more. Potter pulled on Draco’s hips, pulling out of him.

“Where are you _going?”_ Draco asked, a stinging slap on his arse is the only answer he got as he was moved to the edge of the bed.

“Hold your legs.” Potter ordered, standing between Draco’s legs off the side of the bed. Draco hoisted both legs up, holding them open with his arms. Potter slid two fingers into him, “Look at how easy my fingers go in?” His voice was low, “You’re just a gaping hole aren’t you, so fucking needy for my cock.”

“ _Potter_.” Draco arched up a bit higher, trying to get him to use his fucking cock to fuck.

“What do you want Malfoy?” Potter cooed, running his hand on the outside of Draco’s thigh.

“To fuck!” Draco said indignantly.

“I am fucking you with my fingers right now.” Potter told him. Draco made an exasperated sound, rocking back and forth on Potter’s fingers, “Is this what you want?”

“No!” Draco growled and then gasped as Potter hit his prostate, “Salazar! Fucking hell.” Potter moved his fingers, sliding another one in.

“Think I could get my whole hand in here?” Potter asked him, “I’d have to use a lot of lube, you’d be dripping by the end of it.” Draco whimpered, he didn’t think he was capable of doing that during sex.

“Potter—please.” He whispered.

“Please what?”

“Finish what you fucking started!” Draco snapped, “Fuck me!”

“With?”

“With your fucking cock you giant fucking _oaf_!” Draco yelled. Potter smirked and stood between Draco’s legs on the side of the bed. The bed matched perfect height to Potter’s waist, so all he had to do was sink inside of Draco. Draco made this weird gasping sound that he would deny under oath. Potter pushed down on Draco’s legs, making them move wider apart before thrusting.

Potter fucked like he meant it. His thrusts were brutal, and exactly what Draco fucking wanted. He couldn’t do anything but hold his legs up and gasp at every thrust. He could barely see anymore as pleasure tingled all over him. His orgasm was so close. He pulled his legs tighter as he got closer, barely aware that the person begging for Potter to fuck him harder was himself. One of Potter’s hands wrapped around his cock and that was the end for him. Draco was in pleasurable pain as he came all over himself, the long ropes of cum shooting up all over his torso. Potter’s brutal pace didn’t stop, folding him more in half as Potter went for his own orgasm. The change of position made Draco gasp at every stroke, milking his orgasm for that much longer. It was painful as he came down from his high, his body so sensitive but he _loved_ it. Warmth spread beneath him as Potter came, grunting as he did so.

“Fucking hell.” Potter said, slightly collapsed on top of Draco. Draco let his legs come down slowly, Potter still inside of him. He kissed up Draco’s sternum before kissing him. The kiss ravaged Draco’s mouth. Potter picked him up and moved him further onto the bed, getting into bed himself as he carried Draco. Draco was very impressed that Potter could do that, considering his slightly smaller size. But apparently Potter was a big strong auror that could carry Draco. Potter reached for the bedside table, his wand cleaning them both up and the bed instantly.

“You should get some muggle sex toys. I want to try them out.” Draco told Potter.

“We’ll order some tomorrow.” Potter told him, “Now shush. It’s three in the morning, and I want some sleep.”

“Fine.” Draco said, “You going to get off me?”

“No.” Potter was sprawled almost entirely on top of him, his head on Draco’s chest.

“Fine.” Draco said, letting his eyes close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It won't always be hunky dory, but I love the fluff for now. I might post again before the week is out. I haven't decided yet.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding out

Draco thought death would be a better option that how he we feeling right now.

“I think I’m dying.” Draco groaned, his hangover was awful.

“Here” Potter said, and Draco opened his eyes with great effort to see a bottle of hangover potion. He immediately downed it, lying back down before his head exploded.

“What time is it?” Draco asked, his eyes closed again.

“A bit after eight.” Potter said. Draco felt the bed dip so he moved back into Potter’s warmth. His large and gentle hands moved up and down Draco’s arm, which felt good despite his whole body aching. Potter kissed Draco’s shoulder, then up his neck.

“I don’t plan on moving until noon.” Draco told him.

Potter snorted, wrapping his arm around Draco, “Ok.”

 

When Draco woke up again, he felt much better. He still felt like he had gotten hit by a bus, but at least he didn’t feel like dying. He stretched a bit and winced, his arse was _fucking_ sore. Draco rolled over to see Potter sitting in bed, reading the Prophet.

“What time is it?”

“Ten thirty.” Potter answered, looking at Draco as he got up, “I thought you weren’t moving until noon.”

“I have to pee.” He said, lumbering over to the bathroom. He managed to pee and then looked into the mirror, “Fuck.” He mumbled to himself, he looked a little there was a tornado that went through his hair, “It must be your bed that makes your hair looks like a rat’s nest.” Draco said, walking out of the bathroom and coming his fingers through his hair, “I swear I wake up in my own bed looking fantastic.”

“You look pretty fantastic now.” Potter said with a grin, eyeing up Draco unashamedly. Draco smirked but reached down and grabbed his pants, slipping them on.

“Oh my god!” Draco cried out.

“What?”

“I left my shirt _on the ground_!”

“I told you last night you would be mad.” Potter said with a laugh.

“And you still let me _leave it there?”_ Draco grabbed it, his head not feeling so great as he stood back up, “Ugh. This hangover potion is not working.”

“That happens when you’re super hung over.” Potter pointed out as Draco put his shirt carefully on one of the chairs and then crawled back into bed. He curled his legs up and put his arm over his head.

“Fuck me.” He groaned.

“I already did—but I could go again.” Potter sounded amused.

“I’m glad the _golden boy_ is laughing at my pain.” Draco grumbled into his arm. He felt the bed move and Potter’s body heat move closer. He was close to Draco.

“Want me to make you breakfast?” His voice was right by his face.

“Yes.” Draco knew he was whining.

“What do I get for it?” Potter asked, his tone teasing.

“If I give you a blow job, my head will explode.” Draco told him flatly and Potter laughed.

“I’ll make pancakes.”

“I like pancakes.” Draco sounded pathetic, but his head hurt. His entire body hurt, no thanks to Potter. Potter gently pulled Draco’s elbow up so he could see Draco’s face.

“Oh you poor thing.” He teased.

“I’m an invalid. Please make me food.” Draco said, and Potter laughed, leaning in and kissing Draco’s lips, “That’s disgusting. I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

“I have an extra toothbrush underneath my cabinet if you can manage to get out of bed.”

“I’ll try.” Draco said.

 

He did manage to get up and get his teeth brushed while Potter made breakfast. He still didn’t feel great, but he managed to pick up his stuff and put it in one place. Draco could hear Potter talking to Hermione and the Weasel, which made him worry a bit. But fuck it, if Potter wanted him to go he shouldn’t have offered breakfast. Potter came back into the room with two plates on a tray, shutting the door behind him.

“Fuck yes.” Draco groaned. There were pancakes, eggs _and_ bacon, “What did you tell them about two plates?”

“I told them I had a guest—which made them curious. But I just walked out of the room.” Potter grinned, giving Draco a plate and then moving to sit in the bed with him.

“Speaking of telling friends.” Draco frowned, “I might have accidentally told Blaise—and Longbottom.”

Potter stared at him, “You told Neville?”

“Well, I sort of had a freak out. So I was told Blaise, Longbottom just happened to be in the room.”

“He hasn’t said anything.” Potter said.

“You haven’t been around.” Draco pointed out before taking a bite of his pancakes. They were delicious.

“I told Ginny.” Potter said, “If we’re confessing.”

“You told your ex-girlfriend?”

“We’re still good friends.” Potter defended himself, adjusting his legs a bit, “Plus—I was sort of freaking out, and it just came out.”

“We should have timed our freak outs together.” Draco joked, and then let out an unsteady breath, “Why did you freak out?”

Potter frowned, “It’s us—we don’t have a great history. B-but when I’m with you, I don’t feel like that.”

“We don’t exactly talk much.” Draco said, eating more.

“Ginny said great sex is not a good indicator of a relationship—” Potter blushed, “That’s if you wanted one anyway.”

“Well, we’d both have to want one.” Draco said, eating more pancakes to keep busy. He said it lightly, but he felt like his heart was about to explode right out of his chest.

“D-do you?” Potter asked, he tried to sound casual but he was about as subtle as a niffler’s stash of shiny treasure. Warmth bloomed in Draco’s chest before he could help it, but he didn’t want to seem overly eager.

“I think I do. When I talked it through with Longbottom, he said—he said we both have big reasons it would be bad for us to date each other. You have to date a former Death Eater, so that will bring you lots of negative attention. I’d have to deal with the flip side of that—obviously I corrupted the Golden Boy.” Potter snorted, “But we have a lot in common too. Longbottom said we were both used as pawns by powerful men in the War.” Draco spoke quietly, terrified of Potter’s reaction.

“And we both like Quidditch.” Potter said, and Draco let out a harsh breath of relief, smiling at Potter.

“And cock.” Potter’s returning smile made Draco melt a bit on the inside, “D-do we continue doing this?” Draco asked.

“Yes.” Potter answered, “But maybe we don’t hide.”

“It’s not that I want to hide—I just loathe other people’s opinion.” Draco said with a sigh.

“Not everyone will have a bad opinion.” Potter pointed out.

“The Weaselette had great things to say about me—I’m sure. I nearly killed one brother, let a werewolf into the castle that permanently marred her other brother. I made her life and her brothers’ lives miserable every chance I got!”

“She didn’t bring that up when we talked about it.” Potter admitted, “But she says she gets the right to say I told you so when you do something stupid.”

Draco frowned, “I _will_ do something stupid. I’ll make a joke you won’t like—I’ll piss you off eventually. Just like you’ll piss me off—that’s how relationships work.”

“I know, I hang out with Ron and Hermione. They have made bickering a second language.” He slipped a bit of egg that had fallen out of his mouth back into it.

“So—so you’re not going to leave after we fight?” Draco asked, his tone light despite the serious question.

“No—well, unless our first fight is you cheating on me.” Potter said with a grin, “I’m an exclusive kinda guy.”

“Me too.” Draco smirked, “Only child, I don’t share well.”

Potter smiled, “Ok—want to go out to dinner with me tonight?”

Draco nodded, “Yeah, I have to run into St. Mungo’s for a bit—and shower.”

“Case?”

“Yeah, it’s a weird one.” Draco bit into his bacon and proceeded to tell Potter about his case. It was a woman whose flesh was slowly turning black—a charcoal dusty black. They had managed to slow the process, but it was still creeping up her left leg, “I want to check in. I told her I was going out last night, so she wasn’t supposed to look for me in the morning. Did you solve your case?”

“No.” Potter said with a sigh, “He went back underground. It was someone murdering sex workers.” He ran his fingers through his hair, “I think the only reason they were having us consult at all is because how publically the bodies were displayed. They didn’t care about the women, just the politics of it.”

Draco frowned, “I’m surprised you didn’t yell at them—you always yelled at Umbridge.”

Potter smiled, “I learned a bit of politics since then, but I did get angry a few times.”

“Anything more about Rachel’s trial?”

“We don’t have a date yet, but I’ll let you know when I do.” Potter said, they put their plates back on the tray.

“If I go home now, the Weasel and Hermione will see me.” Draco said with a scrunched up nose.

“I don’t care if they see you.” Potter told him.

Draco let out a huff of breath, “Ok.” He nodded, sliding out of bed and grabbing his jeans. He slipped them on and then grabbed his shirt. The iron charm helped, but it wasn’t as pristine as it should have been. He still pulled it on as well. Potter was still in his pants and undershirt.

“I need a shower.” He confessed.

Draco nodded, “You want to face this in just your pants?”

Potter smirked, “I guess so.”

“You are ridiculous Potter.”

“Maybe you should call me Harry.”

“Then you should call me Draco.” Draco countered.

“Alright Draco.” Potter said, then made a face, “That was strange.”

“Harry.” Draco tried it, then smiled, “It sounds ridiculous.”

“Out of the two of us, I’m then one with the most normal name.”

“Says you.” Draco frowned, making Potter grin.

“Come on.” Potter grabbed the door and opened it. Draco’s stomach dropped, but he followed Harry out the door. Hermione and the Weasel both stared.

“Morning.” Draco said, his cheeks a bit red.

Potter kept walking him to the floo, “See you tonight? Seven?”

“Yeah—come and get me at my place.” Draco said, trying not to think about the two fish just completely staring at them.

Potter bounced up and kissed Draco, and Draco couldn’t help but close his eyes a bit and melt into the kiss. It was a comfort while being stared at. Draco bit his lip when Potter backed away. He nodded encouragingly so Draco grabbed some floo powder and went to his own apartment.

 

He felt a bit like he was abandoning Harry, but figured the Weasel and Hermione would want to talk to Potter first anyway. And Potter had sort of encouraged him out the door. Draco stepped into the shower, letting all the lingering grossness wash off from the previous night. A wand cleaning spell worked well, a shower was always better. He wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped back into his room—

“Merlin!” Draco jumped when he saw Hermione sitting on his bed, “What if I walked out naked?”

“I wasn’t going to let you use it as an excuse to run away from me.” Hermione said with a frown.

“I wasn’t going to run!” Draco said indignantly, “Can I please put clothes on before we have this conversation?”

“Go ahead.” Hermione said, waving to the closet, “Apparently my opinion means very little.”

“You opinion means a great deal to me.” Draco said.

“You didn’t talk to me about Harry.”

“Of course I didn’t!” Draco said, closing the walk in closet door a bit so he could put on pants, then khakis.

“I’m his best friend!”

“Exactly! And Potter and I have never gotten along. You have implicit bias.” Draco said, grabbing a thin black sweater, “and what was I supposed to do? Tell you Potter’s got a great arse? We haven’t really done much.” Draco said, walking back out into his room. Hermione was biting her lip, “it’s not like we’ve been secretly dating for months.”

“Why didn’t you tell me after the first time you saw each other?”

Draco sighed, running his fingers through his damp hair, “I didn’t know if it was going to be a one off. And if it was—I saw no point of telling you. Potter and I would both be a bit awkward around each other, but that’s nothing new. But then—” Draco allowed himself to smile, “I dunno. We had fun, I owled him about Rachel’s case and we saw each other again. We went out to dinner and we had a great time. We _just_ decided we should be more serious—and then we walked out of his room.”

“Harry says that Ginny, Neville and Blaise already know.”

“Well, I didn’t tell Ginny.” Draco said, “And Neville only knows because I broke down in front of Blaise.”

“Broke down?” Hermione asked, sounding terse.

“This is stressful!” Draco snapped, “I know you feel wronged—but this is why I hadn’t said anything! You’re _his_ friend first. And I _know_ that. I was trying to do the right thing by not putting you in the middle. I had a breakdown for every reason you think Hermione.” Draco clenched his hands, “It’s Potter and I—we don’t have a great history. And obviously my insane need to control my life—Potter brings in way too many variables. But I _like_ him. And I want to give it an honest shot. And I thought about backing away because—well obviously it brings a lot of scrutiny to me. I’m not saying it wouldn’t him too—but it’s a lot to ask. For both of us. It was Longbottom who said that I couldn’t decide for Potter, I could only decide for myself. So I did. I decided I want to try, and so did Harry.”

Draco sighed, “I am very sorry if you feel undermined by this. You are one of my best friends, and I didn’t mean to shut you out—or betray you by sleeping with your best friend.” He ran his fingers through his hair, “I have to go to St. Mungo’s for a few hours—I’ll see you before Potter picks me up. Maybe it will give you a chance to ask us questions together.” Draco said before striding out of the room, not willing to give her time to ask questions.

 

Draco got to St. Mungo’s and chatted with the nurses a bit. They always had the gossip, so he got filled in on everything that had happened. Then he went to his office and ran through a couple of different files. His office was more of a few drawers and an area to stand, but he would take it. Thank goodness Hermione introduced him to muggle pens so that it would take up less space.

His patient was doing well, the curse had slowed down to an infinitesimal speed, but it hadn’t been reversed. It was in her left leg and left hand. The feeling in her toes had gone. At first they were just slightly numb, but now she could barely feel anything. Draco had to seriously consider amputating, but he wouldn’t do it until he had exhausted his other options. He wasn’t even sure amputating would stop the curse.

“How are you feeling Patricia?” Draco asked as he walked in.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere gallivanting about your weekend?” She asked, smiling at him. Patricia was early forties and had large brown eyes that loved to look too closely at Draco.

“I did some gallivanting, but now I’m here.” He winked.

“Oh, out with some friends?” She asked.

“Yes, had a great time.” Draco confirmed, casting some diagnostic spells.

“And someone special?” She asked with a knowing voice.

“How—but yes.” He looked at her.

“You got a little something right here.” She pointed at his neck.

Draco got red, turning to one of the shiny instruments and seeing a small love bite right behind his ear, “I’m going to kill him.”

Patricia laughed delightedly as Draco cast the spell to clean up love bites on his neck, “Who’s the lucky man?” She asked.

“A friend.” Draco answered evasively, “We’re still in the beginning stages.”

“Ah, that can be the fun part.” Patricia said with her eyes dancing.

“I feel like people in good relationships always say that, but they have forgotten how awkward it is.” Draco said with a sigh.

“Oh I nearly killed Sam in those early days. And look what a fine man he has turned out to be.” Her eyes sparkled at the mention of her husband.

“Where is Sam?”

“Getting me food. I’m sick of hospital food.”

“Fair enough.” Draco said. He spent awhile with Patricia, running more tests as they chatted. They were still talking when Sam came back in with bags of Thai food. They let Draco have some, so he stayed in the room for a while.

“Healer Malfoy?” A nurse called tentatively from the doorway.

“Yes?” He turned to her.

“You said to get you when it was six.” She tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Fuck—it’s already six?” He jumped onto his feet.

“Where are you going?” Patricia asked.

“I got a hot date tonight.” Draco said with a grin.

“You bring that young man in here, I want to talk to him.” Patricia said sternly.

Draco laughed, “I’m sure he’ll be in here sooner or later.” Probably because he would get injured, but Patricia didn’t need to know that, “I’ll be in here Monday.”

“Thank you Draco.” She said and Sam nodded along.

 

Draco managed to get home a few minutes before seven. He had a few more things to catch up on before he managed to get home. He wasn’t surprised when Potter wasn’t there, as the man tended to run late. Hermione was there, cleaning the counter.

“How was work?”

“Patricia’s hand is still black. It doesn’t seem to be in any pain—or she is very good at hiding it. It moves fine, it’s just numb and black. She used chopsticks today without a problem.”

“Such an odd curse.” Hermione let out a breath.

“She still won’t say how she got it either.” Draco said, running his fingers through his hair feeling a bit awkward. Hermione looked at him.

“Have you guys even talked about anything?” Hermione asked.

Draco frowned, “No—we haven’t gotten that far yet.” He snapped then let out a breath, trying to get rid of his anger.

“He’s been through a lot.”

“And my life has been a field of fucking flowers.” Draco said coldly

“In comparison!”

“Than you know nothing about me.” Draco said much more flatly than what he felt. His insides were turning into molten, “I understand I will never be good enough for your best friend, but I had no idea you thought so little of me.”

“That’s not fair Draco—

“What other conclusion am I supposed to draw from your arguments?” Draco asked, waving his hands around. Draco frowned, “I’ll admit I didn’t expect this much anger from you. Sure, the Weasel was going to be angry, but I thought—” Draco’s throat closed so he paused, “You know me.”

There was a knock on the door, so Draco walked to the door. Potter was a comforting face. He smiled softly and Draco felt the emotion welling up in him. Potter grasped his hand. He didn’t say anything, but the look was enough.

“I have to go get my coat, but I’m ready.” Draco said, “You can come in.”

Harry walked into the apartment and pulled off his coat. He was wearing a long sleeve forest green shirt with dark wash jeans. He hung up his grey pea coat on the hook before walking into the apartment.

“Hey Mione.” He greeted with a stiff grin, “Hope you’re not giving Draco a hard time. Because, as we know, it is _my_ decision to date someone.”

Hermione was glaring at Draco, “I’m sorry it is taking me longer to get used to this.”

“What do you want to ask us?” Draco said with a sigh, “Anything in particular?”

“How did you two first get together?”

“It was after I identified Rachel’s body. You were gone with the Weasel and Potter came over.”

“So you started drinking and fucked?”

“We didn’t drink.” Potter said, using his angry voice. Draco didn’t think he had ever heard it used on Hermione, “There was attraction before that, but I stayed over that night and it just happened. What do you want to know Hermione that will help clear this up for you? Do you want positions? Who fucked who?” Potter was definitely angry.

“No.” Hermione sounded mollified.

“I think I’ve earned the right to date someone that I want.” Harry said.

“Harry, I didn’t mean it like that.” Hermione said softly.

“Of course you didn’t.” Harry sighed, “I need you to think this through—like you do everything else.”

Hermione let out a breath, looked down at the counter and nodded, “Ok.” She tucked some hair behind her ear as she looked up, “Just give me time.”

“I put up with McLaggen.” Harry said, a grin on his lips and Hermione smiled.

“I hope you’re not comparing me to McLaggen.” Draco sniffed, “I have much better taste than him—not to mention I’m much more attractive.”

Potter grinned at him, pulling his hand, “Ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Draco said, pushing him toward the door, “You’re paying, I think I deserve to be treated.”

“How about I bottom and you pay?” Potter asked as they walked to the door.

Draco scrunched his nose, “Maybe.”

“Depends on how much you drink.” Potter said with a smile as he pulled on his coat.

“Don’t mention alcohol. I’m never drinking ever again.” Draco said as they walked out the door. They walked down the steps, “Where to for dinner? I’m feeling comfort food.”

“There’s a good Italian place around the corner.”

“I’d kill for pasta.” Draco groaned.

“Well, no need to do that.” Potter told him with a grin, holding the door open for them as they walked out, “it would be a shame to arrest you today.”

Draco snorted, “I don’t know. You might like the handcuffs.”

Potter waggled his eyebrows, his hands stuffed in his pocket in the cold weather and his cheeks were red from the wind, “I’ll definitely like the handcuffs.”

“Who knew you were so kinky?”

“Anyone that’s been in bed with me.”

Draco was tempted to kiss him, but this close to Potter’s flat the Prophet always lied in wait. They walked a few more blocks into the city, and Potter stopped at a small hole in the wall restaurant.

“Mr. Potter! I hadn’t seen you in too long.” A dark haired elderly man with a heavy Italian accent greeted him.

“I’ve been away for work.” Potter said with an easy grin, “you know I can’t resist for too long.”

“I knew you’d be back. I can have your usual table.”

“Thank you so much.” Potter said, when the man turned to Draco he continued, “This is my date—Draco.”

“A friend of Mr. Potter is a friend of mine.” He smiled, “Come on in.”

“How does he know you?” Draco whispered to Potter as they walked through to the table.

“I came in here and loved his food, chatted him up a bit. Became a bit of a regular.” Potter confessed as they eased into the booth in the back.

“Your menus.” The owner placed the menus on the table. They were small, hand written. It was beautiful writing with pencil drawings on the side.

“Thanks Antonio.” Potter said with a grin.

“The pheasant is particularly good today.” Antonio whispered conspiratorially before walking away. Draco looked down at the menu to see roasted pheasant with potatoes and greens. He hadn’t had good pheasant in forever.

“They get their ingredients fresh everyday.” Potter told him, “it’s why the menu is hand written. It’s different everyday.”

“I hope your wallet is ready—I’m doing multiple courses.” Draco said, his mouth watering, “I don’t think I ate lunch today.”

“Good.” Potter smiled, hooking his leg around Draco’s ankle, “I’m sorry your day sucked.”

“It didn’t suck all around. I had a good day at work. Just—Hermione.” Draco didn’t expect his voice to catch so quickly.

“I didn’t mean to drive a wedge between you.” Potter whispered.

“She’s driving a wedge between us.” Draco retorted.

“She’ll come around. If anything, Hermione is logical.”

Draco bit his lip, “This isn’t logical.”

Potter wove his fingers into Draco’s, “Yes it is—and it isn’t.”

“Harry.” Draco whispered his name, and Potter leaned across the table and kissed him softly.

“I’m sorry my friends are threatening you.”

“Just you wait until my friends get ahold of you.” Draco grinned brightly.

“I look forward to it.”

 

Dinner was fucking fantastic. Draco got the pheasant and Potter got the pasta so they could each eat both. Everything was delicious. It melted like butter in Draco’s mouth.

“Your devious plan to fatten me up is working.” Draco moaned. Usually Draco would have wanted to drink wine with dinner, but it was a bit too soon after last night.

“I’m the Golden Boy. I’m incapable of being devious.” Potter said with a grin.

“I _know_ you are very capable.” Draco said, leaning in closer.

“Dessert for you two?” Antonio asked.

“Yes please.” Potter said excitedly, “You know it’s the only reason why I come here.”

Antonio laughed, “I’ll have your two desserts out in a second. With ice cream.”

“Thank you.” Potter grinned. Antonio walked away.

“Why does he like you so much?”

“I’m a likable person.” Potter said. Another waitress dropped off the dessert, and Draco happily ate all of his.

“Mr. Potter—there was someone who tried to get into the restaurant to see you. They were carrying a weird camera so I sent them out.” Antonio said.

“The Prophet.” Potter frowned, looking around, “Good thing we’re in the back of the restaurant.” Draco was stiff.

“You’re sure they didn’t get a picture?” Draco asked.

“No—I didn’t know you were famous Harry.” Antonio said.

“I’m not really. I’m only famous to some people.”

“Government agency.” Draco tagged on, “He helped save the world once.”

“And all this time you’ve been coming to my restaurant?” Antonio grinned but Harry had turned bright red.

“I was only a small cog, but I helped. So some people want to take my picture.”

“Well, I’ll make sure they don’t get in.”

“They’ll wear weird clothes—that’s how you’ll know it’s them.” Draco said.

Antonio nodded but Harry said, “We’ll be out of here soon.”

“Your place or mine?” Draco asked.

“Let’s go to yours.” Harry said.

“Out the back door?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, “I’m so sorry Draco.”

“It’s not your fault.”

 

Draco paid for the tab, thanking Antonio as they walked through the kitchen to the back door. Draco kept Antonio distracted as Potter used several charms to make sure neither one could be noticed before walking out the door and apparating back to Draco’s apartment.

“I’m sorry.” Potter said again as he pulled off his jacket.

“It’s not your fault.” Draco said, taking Potter’s hand, “I know you don’t like the press. Your scowl in every picture they take of you is apparent enough. Let’s not let it ruin our evening.”

Harry nodded, “Ok.” He stepped closer into Draco’s chest, tilting his head up to be kissed. Draco easily indulged. He tasted like cannoli.

“You want to order some muggle sex toys on the internet?” Potter asked.

“Yes.” Draco grinned brightly.

They wandered back into Draco’s room and pulled out Harry’s phone. Draco hadn’t laughed so freely in a long time as they scrolled through sex toys. They picked out a couple of different things, and Draco was eager to try them all out. He was also just eager to have sex with Potter after talking about sexy things. Which is how he ended up fucking Potter into the mattress.

 

“Draco?” Harry pulled him from sleep early in the morning.

“Hm?” His eyes fluttered open, Harry was entangled in Draco’s legs, his hand on Draco’s hip.

“I have to go to the Weasley’s today—it’s Sunday.”

“Ok.” Draco said with a frown, wrapping Potter a bit closer. Harry chuckled.

“I was going to tell all of them today—about us.” Draco opened his eyes, “That’s if you want me to.”

“Ok.” Draco knew he didn’t sound certain, “We need to have a couple of conversations though.”

Harry frowned, “I know. It’s too bad we can’t just block out time and have it all out at once.”

“That would be ideal.” Draco said with a sigh.

“We can.” Potter said, “I am house sitting for Bill and Fleur next weekend. You can come with me.”

“Ok.” Draco agreed.

Potter perked up, “Really?”

“I could use a weekend away.”

“I’ll make sure it’s ok with Bill and Fleur first—but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“We should each write a list of things we want to know—that way we make sure we hit everything.”

Harry’s thumb rubbed his hip a bit, “Sounds very rational.” He grinned.

“You making fun of me?”

“No.” Potter nudged his nose along Draco’s, his lips brushed against Draco’s.

“Want to tell your family after next weekend?”

“Yes.” Potter agreed, then kissed him again, “Sex toys come in on Thursday, so it will be a good edition to our away weekend.”

Draco grinned, “I can’t wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to say one thing: Hermione is DEFINITELY over reacting, but she has a reason. I don't really like giving away hints, but I wanted you to know. You'll find out later :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking it out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for a long chapter. I thought about dividing into two, but it didn't make sense to do that. So it's really long. Enjoy.

Draco didn’t see Hermione much that week. He couldn’t really tell if she was avoiding him or not because they had shifts at different times. Though they were both residents now, their schedules did fluctuate a bit. More so with Hermione’s because of the nature of her department. Draco was familiar enough with Hermione that he wanted to give her space. If he didn’t, he was likely to get punched. So he didn’t force it.

“Healer Malfoy?” Nurse Sherry called him from his thoughts. It was Friday, so he was going to leave as soon as his shift was over.

“Sherry.” Draco looked to her; he was reading a chart by her desk.

“You seem excited.” She said, “Fun weekend plans?”

“Yeah. Going away for the weekend.” Draco said.

“Love life?”

Draco grinned a bit lecherously, “Yes.”

“So I take it you’ll be more bearable when you return.” Sherry said.

“Never.” He swore.

“I am glad you only terrorize one floor.” Sherry said.

“You love it when I terrorize.” Draco said.

“The new nurses are terrified of you.”

Draco scowled, “Well Robert is an idiot. He deserved to get reamed out.” Robert was arrogant and careless. He made a mistake while on Draco’s diagnostics, and Draco had lost it.

“He needed to be taken down a peg.” Sherry agreed, “But now any new nurse that gets assigned on one of your cases tries to pawn it off on someone else. “

“Well, I went from most beloved Healer to most terrifying in a short amount of time.”

Sherry snorted, “Don’t worry, they still find you attractive.”

Draco grinned, running his fingers through his hair, “That’s good.”

“Healer Malfoy?”

Draco turned to the nurse that walked in, “New patient is coming up.” She looked out of breath, “Came in through the clinic.”

“What happened?” Draco asked, taking the chart from her.

“Flesh eating—not any of the usuals.” She said. He glanced through the chart as she described what happened. It was an auror that walked through a spilled potion and now it was slowly eating its way up from his feet.

Draco heard the man screaming before he even got to the floor. He was instantly in diagnostic mode, casting as many spells as possible. It was difficult to do with the man writhing in pain, but Draco stayed focused. There was blood everywhere, so Draco had him on a steady stream of blood replenishment potions. Draco was working as fast as possible, but he knew the potion was working faster.

Stasis spells seemingly had no effect. He had several resident Healers working in rounds to keep the spell on for as long as possible. But the longer it went on, the more quickly he had to rotate them through.

“Healer! This is a sample of the potion that the Auror walked through.” A young nurse showed him a small vial of green goo. He opened it and smelled it. The pungent smell he knew well, so he changed his tactics.

The patient was slowly getting more tired, and Draco knew he didn’t have much time. He ran to the potion storage and started combining things. He had to neutralize the acid. He could do it. As soon as he threw the potion on the patient, the man passed out. There was steam coming from the legs, but it soon dissipated.

The room waited with bated breath, watching the stubs of legs to see if the potion would continue to eat more flesh. The whole room was silent and they waited. Draco timed it for two minutes and it didn’t look like anything happened. He let out a breath and the tension broke in the room.

“He needs more blood replenishment and gauze.” There would be no way to regrow his legs, not with the potion that was used. It was dark magic. The legs were gone. He could get prosthetics, which were just starting to get much better. He cringed to think of Mad Eye Moody’s ugly lump of a leg and was still an auror. Not everything with the legs could be fixed tonight, most of it would have to wait and see. He couldn’t have the flesh-eating potion back after regrowing flesh.

He directed the nurses to mark how far down from the knee the flesh had been eaten. It was about midway up his calf that was gone. The team helped wrap up the auror’s legs. He would come back Monday to reassess the wounds. Or he could take a quick floo over Saturday just to check in.

Draco didn’t quite realize how exhausted he was until he stepped back. Magical fatigue could do that. He just got everything wrapped up when Sherry walked into the room.

“Healer Malfoy? I need you for a moment.” Draco nodded, ordering a few more things before stepping out of the room. She handed him a note, “This was dropped off.” It was a handwritten note with Potter’s sloppy handwriting on it. Draco’s stomach dropped. With the conversation he had earlier with Sherry, there was no way she wouldn’t know.

 _Heard you got caught up in a case. I grabbed your bag so you can come straight here. Just say Shell Cottage for the floo_.

“I told him you got wrapped up in a case.”

“Sherry—” Draco started

“I won’t say anything Draco. I promise.” She said seriously.

“You’d probably make a fortune.” Draco said, running his fingers through his hair a bit nervously.

“Don’t give me ideas.” She teased, but this wasn’t something Draco could joke about. He looked up to her with slightly panicked eyes, “I won’t Draco. I promise.” She swore again.

“Thank you.” Draco let out a breath.

“Well hurry up in there, that man looked eager to have you join him.” Sherry smiled at Draco.

 

It took Draco a bit longer, but he got the patient stable. Now it was a waiting game. So Draco grabbed his stuff and walked to the floo. He was dead tired and not sure if he wanted to have an exhausting conversation after his evening. He cast a tempus charm and it was nearly nine, no wonder he was starving.

When he walked into the cottage, it smelled like bread and the ocean. He looked around the small but very well decorated place. Two big doors were open, but clearly had warming charms placed over them because it would have been freezing. Potter was sitting in a seat with his feet up on the balcony. He was wearing a big sweater with a glass in his hand.

“Hey.” Draco said softly, standing next to him.

“Food is in the kitchen, I couldn’t wait.” Potter said, Draco rewarded it by leaning down and kissing his lips.

“Thank you.” Draco said with a sigh, “I’m starving.”

“Pesto and panko encrusted chicken with roasted potatoes and fresh bread. There’s stuff for a salad too if you want.” Potter turned to look at him, “And you might want to change.”

Draco looked down at his robes covered in blood, “Fuck—sorry.”

“No worries. I come home covered in blood too sometimes.” Potter said with a grin, “How is Finch?”

That was the name of the auror he had been taking care of, “Stable. Lost his legs up to about mid calf—it was horrible.” Draco said as he pulled off his robes, “Is there a washer here?”

“Yeah, just through there.” Potter pointed, but he got up to show Draco. Draco put his Healer robes in the wash and then went to the kitchen. His plate was under a warming charm.

“What are you drinking?”

“I made spiked cider.” Potter said and Draco grinned.

“Yum.” Draco said happily. Potter looked so cozy in his oversized sweater, worn jeans and wool socks. Draco was envious in his trousers and button down shirt, “I’m going to change.”

“Your bag is upstairs on the left.”

“You have a jumper I can borrow?” Draco asked.

“Yeah, just go through my bag.” Potter told him.

Draco went up the stairs quickly and into their room. It was a small guestroom with a full sized bed. His leather monogramed bag was at the foot of it, Potter’s own gym bag had stuff spewing out of it already. Draco changed into more comfortable trousers and a linen shirt. He took the opportunity to go through Potter’s bag, grabbing a large green sweater. It smelled exactly like Potter—maple and woods. He saw a brown box too, a shipping label on it. That made Draco smile before walking down the steps.

“Much better.” Potter said with a grin, “Though you’re still wearing khakis.”

“These are my comfy pair.” Potter scoffed, but shoved over Draco’s plate of food. Draco didn’t think he breathed as he woofed it down. Usually he was mindful of his manners, but Potter wouldn’t care. Draco moaned after he bit into the fresh bred.

“This is delicious.”

“Thanks.” Potter smiled, “I hope you know you’re in charge of making food tomorrow.”

“I accept.” Draco grinned, sitting back into his chair as he bit into the last bite of his bread. Potter slid over his warm cider, which Draco gratefully took.

“I know you’re tired, so I was thinking I talk tonight and you talk tomorrow?” Potter said, he looked a bit weary himself, his thumbs running along the lip of his mug, “You can ask questions, obviously. But I figured it best if we just monologue, to get it all out at once.”

Draco nodded, “I think that is a good idea.”

“It goes without saying—but I just have to say it.” Potter was looking at his mug, “You can’t tell anyone else about this stuff—you can talk to Hermione about it if you want, of course since she was there. Or Ron—not that I think you would do that. Neville I guess too— he knows everything. Just, no one else.”

“I promise I won’t.” Draco didn’t feel the need to reprimand him for thinking he would do anything else. He could see the tension in Potter’s body, this wasn’t going to be an easy story for him to tell. Draco almost suggested going to sit on the love seat, but he didn’t. He wanted the space between them, if only so that Potter would speak the truth as he had seen it at the time. The fireplace crackled in the silence, but it was warm in the house.

Harry took a breath and then started his story. Way back in the beginning, when he was dropped off at his Aunt and Uncle’s as a child. Draco was sort of surprised he started back then, but understood why as soon as he got details about his family. They seemed horrendous. It also explained his visceral negative reaction when meeting Draco the first time—not that he hadn’t been a horrible little cunt then too. He went through first year where he defeated the Dark Lord _with his hands_ and then second year when he defeated a giant fucking basilisk with a fucking sword. Draco had no idea his own father had been responsible. From Draco’s side, his father had said it was all Dumbledore’s fault for being an incompetent headmaster. Though Harry definitely had a smile on his face when he talked about freeing Dobby, he could tell the memory we bitter sweet. Before they continued to third year, Draco paused to fill up their drinks.

They moved to the sitting room, but sat on different chairs. Draco curled up in a blanket and drank the cider slowly, listening to how Potter finally met his godfather, how he definitely didn’t put his name in the goblet, how he lost his godfather. It took everything Draco had not to reach out and touch him while he talked about the Department of Mysteries, but he didn’t. He was too afraid Harry would look at him and only see his father. Potter had gotten emotional, but moved on quickly to sixth year.

It was difficult for Draco to hear Potter’s side of sixth year. It was little comfort knowing Potter had a difficult year as well. He explained horcruxes, how the diary he found second year had been one. He talked about Dumbledore. It was hard to hear the reverence in his tone, but Draco listened. It was even more difficult to listen to what happened that night. How Potter had been there the entire time.

It was worse to hear about his seventh year on the run. He could hear the hopelessness in his tone, even when Draco knew everything would turn out all right. Draco was furious when he heard about the Weasel walking away, but hated himself for understanding why the Weasel had done it at all. He talked about getting taken by the snatchers, what it was like for him to hear Hermione getting tortured. Draco had his own standpoint in the room, but it wasn’t his turn. He cried a bit when he talked about burying Dobby over on the hill. He admitted to Draco that he had been to the grave already that day.

Draco’s throat was burning with unshed tears when Potter talked about the final battle. Harry’s tone was a bit hollow, like he was trying not to remember much of it. He told Snape’s story, which Draco knew a bit of but not entirely. He said how Dumbledore knew the entire fucking time that Harry was—he was a horcrux. He had walked to his own death. Willingly. With his dead family around him. Draco couldn’t quite get over it. Seeing Potter dead in Hagrid’s arms had not been a great experience for Draco, but Draco didn’t have any idea about what had happened in the woods. He didn’t know what his mother did.

Harry explained how the Elder wand was his, how that is how he won the dual with the Dark Lord. He said that he gave it up in favor of his old wand. Which was the most Potter thing Draco had ever heard.

He talked about how after the war, things had gotten bad. He wiped away tears as he talked about how his mental state hadn’t been great. Which for Potter to admit something was bad, Draco was pretty sure it had been horrendous. He talked about how he worked too hard, and slept in either Ron or Hermione’s bed for months after. Mind healers helped a lot, so soon he was back on his own two feet. But he still had a tendency to work too hard to avoid conflicts. He admitted he was still seeing a therapist, which shocked Draco. Not that it was uncalled for, just that Potter hadn’t brought it up before. He said it was his therapist’s idea for them to have a weekend away and force Harry to talk about it because he wouldn’t otherwise. He kept lovers at a distance, not letting them know that sometimes he was unhappy.

Draco reached out his hand, “Can I?” Draco whispered, when he was sure Harry was done. Potter nodded, so Draco climbed into his lap. He grabbed Potter’s hand and pulled down his sleeve to see his wrist. Draco put his two fingers on the pulse point, glad to feel Potter’s heart beating steadily under his fingers.

“Thank you for telling me.” Draco whispered, “I always thought—from my perspective you always effortlessly did the right thing. I had no idea how difficult it was.” He looked up at Harry, “But if this story was supposed to endear me to Dumbledore—it didn’t work. I can’t believe he did that.” Draco’s eyes welled with tears before he could help it, “I mean—I know you loved him but, I can’t imagine that.”

“It’s ok. Hermione hasn’t forgiven Dumbledore either.” Potter said, rubbing Draco’s back a bit.

“I didn’t know about Snape.”

Harry nodded, “I’m trying to figure out a way to tell everyone about him—I want him to be remembered well. But I haven’t found a way that wouldn’t infuriate him.” He grinned, “But I might want to do that. He was a git, but he deserves to be remembered as a hero.”

“I didn’t know about my Mother.”

“I said so at the trial.” Potter said with a furrow of his brow.

“By my mother’s trial I was already serving my sentence in Azkaban.” Draco told him. Harry held him tightly. Draco couldn’t help his yawn.

“What time is it?” Harry asked.

“I dunno.” Draco looked around and found a clock on the wall, “Shit. It’s two A.M.”

“No wonder I am exhausted.” Potter said, his voice sounding emotionally drained.

“Bed?” Draco asked, and Potter nodded.

The two walked up in silence and got ready for bed without conversation. Draco wasn’t impressed by the quality of the mattress, but that was neither here nor there. He curled up on Potter’s chest, placing his head on Harry’s heart. He could hear the steady thumping as he pulled him close. Harry rubbed his back gently as Draco fell asleep.

 

Draco woke up earlier than he wanted to the next morning. He rolled over a bit to see Harry still asleep. He wasn’t going to wake him. Draco had felt his hand gently rubbing his back for a long time after he had fallen asleep. He wasn’t going to rob sleep from him. It was a little after eight, so he lay in bed for a bit and tried to go back to sleep. But Harry’s story just kept whirling in his head. Eventually the bathroom made him slip out from bed and get moving.

He made himself something quick to eat, but had plans on making a big brunch when Harry finally woke up. He had dressed in Potter’s sweater again. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked outside. He walked up around a hill where he saw a small gravestone.

 _Here lies Dobby. A free Elf_.

Potter had dug the grave himself. Draco couldn’t quite wrap his mind around that. He had seen friends lowered into their grave after the war—but he hadn’t done it himself. Here is where Potter learned how to shield his mind from the Dark Lord. Love had protected him. His love of a House Elf that Draco had been extremely rude to his whole life.

“I’m so sorry Dobby.” Draco whispered, casting a spell. Narcissus bloomed around his grave, it was the flowers that Draco cast with the most ease, “You deserved much better than my family.”

Draco walked back into the cottage and new exactly what he was going to make for breakfast. He also mixed a marinade together for the steak that evening, since it was Draco’s turn to cook dinner. He just started putting French toast in the pan when Potter came down the steps.

“It smells fantastic.” Potter hummed as he walked into the kitchen. His hair looked like kneazles had slept in it but Draco accepted the kiss anyway.

“Almond crusted French toast with strawberries and maple syrup.” Draco said. It hadn’t been too difficult to make, and all the ingredients were there.

“Fuck yes.” Harry breathed deep and when he tried to steal a strawberry, Draco slapped his hand.

“Set the table.”

“Bossy.”

“I get to be. I’ve been slaving away in here for hours.” Draco told him with a smile.

“When’d you wake up?” Potter asked.

“Eight—didn’t get out of bed till later.”

“So at most you’ve been working for three hours.” Potter said, rolling his eyes.

“I picked the wheat for the bread this morning.”

“You are full of shit.” Potter said with a laugh, putting out plates.

It was a few minutes later the table was set up, coffee was poured and the two of them sat down.

“This is how Dobby made French toast—when he lived with us.” Draco told Harry as they sat down.

Potter looked up at him with a smile that was a little heart broken, “Really?”

“Yeah.” Draco smiled back and Potter kissed him.

“Thank you.” Harry said, kissing him once more before sitting down, “Do you have any questions about—what I told you last night?” Potter asked, eating a bite of French toast.

“I think I’m still processing.” Draco admitted, “Did you see my father in the graveyard at the end of the Triwizard tournament?”

“Yes.” Potter answered solidly, so there was no chance it was a mistaken identity.

“Where’s the scar?” Draco asked, and Potter flipped open his hand to show the scar on his left forearm. Draco ran his finger down it briefly, “The scar from the horcrux? The locket?” Draco had seen this one before but hadn’t asked about it. Harry pulled down his undershirt a bit and Draco saw the familiar round circle.

“How did Hermione forgive him?”

Potter snorted, “Not easily, that’s for sure. Ron did a lot of groveling.”

“Was—was the stuff real? When you died? With Dumbledore?”

Harry’s face fell a bit, “I don’t know. It might have been. I choose to think it was—just because, it’s easier to handle if it was real.”

“How did you forgive Dumbledore?”

“I guess because I understand why he did it—doesn’t give him an excuse, but it’s a good reason. I wish he would have told me earlier about the horcruxes, how I was one. I don’t know when it would have been good to tell me—probably fourth year when our blood was tied would have been best.”

“You were so young.”

“I was—which is why he didn’t tell me. But—sometimes I feel ancient. And I did then too. Shielding me from it only hurt me in the end.”

Draco nodded, easily agreeing with him, “Do you still have Grimmauld Place?”

“Yes. I had Kreacher go through what he wanted and sold the rest of the crap. Kept stuff of Sirius’s, of course. I have his bike, a leather jacket, some letters he wrote to my parents.”

“I haven’t seen it in awhile”

Potter smiled, “It’s been cold. I was traveling too much this summer. I’ll bring it out again in the spring.”

“Ok.” Draco grinned, then ate another bite, “If I have more questions about everything? Can I ask later?”

“Sure. Try not to spring it on me, but obviously this weekend you’re fine. But when we get back home just—warn me.”

“Ok. I can do that.” Draco nodded. Potter smiled and Draco took another bite of toast, “Guess it’s my turn.”

“There is a certain freedom in going first.” Potter said with a sigh.

“Fuck off.” Draco grumbled, but Potter just grinned back. Draco gathered his thoughts a bit before he began, “The first time I realized not all wizards hated muggles was when I was eleven.” Draco talked about growing up in the Manor when he was young, about how every person he ever met had told him how horrible muggles were. He talked about how his childhood was lonely as an only child and how his father told him that he wasn’t allowed to have friends but people who he manipulated to do what he wanted. He was rewarded for manipulating people from an early age, encouraged to only keep his thoughts to himself. Unless it was to serve the family, in which case you did everything in your power to protect them.

He talked about first year when his father was angry that a mudblood out did him in school. About how his father was furious for the lack of care for students second year when they kept being petrified. And Draco agreed with him still, because it was ridiculous that it took a twelve year old boy to figure out there was a gigantic snake in the bathroom. Not that the way his father went about it was the best, but he still thought it a bit absurd. Draco talked about the first time his father had used so many stinging hexes that he couldn’t walk for three days. It was the first time he had ever told the story out loud, and he told Potter that.

He talked about fourth year and how it was the calm before the storm for him. How it was the last year of his childhood, despite getting turned into a ferret. They both laughed at how much joy he got out of making the Potter Stinks badges.

Things got worse from there.

Fifth year the Dark Lord spent more time at the Manor, his father was quickly gaining ranks. They were looking for something, but Draco was still on the outside of everything. He confessed that he wanted desperately to be on the inside. It was torture to walk passed meeting doors and not hear what was going on. He was still in denial about how serious everything was. He felt like wizards weren’t getting enough credit, there was too much attention on protecting muggles. Muggles who were too weak and stupid to protect themselves.

He talked about how he still hated all muggle born wizards at that point. How it was difficult to factor in Hermione to that equation. Because if all muggle borns were idiots and weak, how come Granger was a powerful witch? But how he had brushed it off and refused to think about it too much because he hadn’t liked Granger at all.

Draco explained how horrible it was between fifth and sixth year. With his father in Azkaban, suddenly serving the Dark Lord wasn’t a vague idea—it wasn’t a game. He told the story of how he got the Dark Mark. How by that point it didn’t matter if he wanted it or not, he had to do it to protect his family. His father was still in Azkaban, and he refused to let his mother take their family place on the Dark Lord’s council. He talked about how proud he was when the Dark Lord chose him for his task, how he refused to believe he did it to torture his parents for their mistakes. Looking back it was easy to see how it was a set up. His father failed in the department of mysteries, and then the Lucius hadn’t protected something. Knowing what Draco did now, Lucius hadn’t protected the diary. When the Dark Lord found out, he promoted Draco under the guise of showering him with benefits when it was really to mentally torture his parents.

Telling the story of sixth year wasn’t easy. How the letters from home got more and more violent from his lack of success. How his mother had been tortured multiple times by her sister because Draco had failed to find a way to kill Dumbledore. He talked about how he passed out once because he hadn’t eaten in too long. He talked about how horrible it was that not _one_ teacher noticed except for Snape. How his whole life was horrible, how he wanted to just end it all, but that would have left his parents without someone to protect them. He talked about how he nearly killed himself on two separate occasions, shaking as he spoke.

It was difficult to tell Harry how relieved he was when the cabinet worked. That his family would finally be safe and that was the only thing he could think about. His father didn’t have the mental state to protect his mother as much as he should have.

Draco could barely use the words to describe that night. Standing on the Astronomy tower thinking he should just throw himself off of it, but he had to kill Dumbledore to save his family. How he was so _furious_ with Dumbledore for not seeing _him_. For not protecting _him_. If he had been all powerful and all fucking knowing, how come he had let Draco out in the wind like some god damn rabid animal. He talked about how intoxicating it was to be told by the Dark Lord that he was _special_ , _powerful_ and _important._ All the things he had ever aspired to be. It was that voice whispering in his ear that night, and he regretted it. Because he didn’t feel like any of those things walking through the castle and seeing how much damage the Death Eaters had caused. He talked about how he had gotten sick that night.

Seventh year was even worse. Torturing first years had been horrible and everyone had looked up to him as a shiny example of how a young Death Eater should act. He talked about challenging the Carrows in subtle ways to protect students, how Snape had encouraged it without explicitly saying so. He talked about how the reality of the Dark Lord in charge was nothing like he had imagined. He wanted a world where wizards were protected, but torturing wizards seemed counter productive. He choked on his words when he was forced to torture Olivander. How seeing Luna in his family dungeon had made him get sick. How he had tried to give them food but had been caught before he got there by his aunt and had been tortured for it.

He talked about how he recognized Harry instantly when he came to the Manor. How he didn’t quite make the decision not to admit to recognizing him until the words were out of his mouth. He hadn’t realized how conflicted he really was about everything until he watched his aunt torture Hermione. He decided he wouldn’t help the war effort anymore. He wouldn’t go against it, but he wouldn’t help either. It wasn’t very brave of him, but it was what he chose.

The aftermath when Potter escaped had been awful. The amount of bodies—Draco could barely get the words out. There had been so much blood. He talked about going back to Hogwarts for the final Battle—how all he wanted was his wand. Because if he had his own wand, then his family wouldn’t be sharing just his mother’s wand. How they could run away from everything if he had more than just one wand.

He said how he didn’t realize how much he didn’t care about Vincent until he died, and how horrible it made him feel. Vince wasn’t a _friend_. He didn’t have _friends_. And it made him a horrible person. He had never loved anything other than his family, and look where it had gotten him.

Draco talked about watching Hagrid carry Harry’s body and how he realized seeing him dead wasn’t what he had wanted. Sure, he thought Harry was an idiot—but not like this. How he had stood with the Hogwarts students until his father had called him back. How he felt so helpless. He hadn’t even thought about it when Harry turned out to be alive that he should fight off the remaining followers of Voldemort. Sitting with his mother and father in the great hall after everything felt dirty.

Talking about the hopelessness he felt in Azkaban wasn’t easy. He was shaking the entire time. He explained how even though he was only in there three and a half months, every day felt like agony. The dementors—they’re gone from Azkaban now—but at the time they weren’t. He kept reliving every horrible moment of his life over and over again. The day he got out, he hopped right on the train to Hogwarts. It was how his sentence was planned. Hermione sat with him on the train, which is how they started their tentative friendship.

Draco talked about how bad his own PTSD was. How he didn’t trust Hermione sitting next to him without an ulterior motive, or when she gave him chocolate he was convinced it was poisoned. He was so used to people doing things to get something from him, he didn’t think it was possible to be an open person.

His mental state had gotten better by Christmas, but that is when everything went horribly again. His father, as was arranged at his sentence, could come home for three days. Christmas Eve dinner, his father and mother told Draco he would get married to Astoria. Draco refused and was kicked out of the Manor that same evening. He went over to Blaise’s house and had a very Merry Christmas despite everything.

The next day had been horrible. He got a letter from his father with a lump sum, kicking him out of the family. Draco was in a horrible place, feeling worthless and like there was no future for him. The only time Draco ever told this story was to Hermione and his therapist, so it was still difficult to get the words out for Potter. His hands were sweating and he felt like getting sick, but Draco told him how he was almost successful at taking his own life that evening. He drank an entire bottle of Dreamless Sleep. Blaise had found him and called a Healer, who pumped his stomach and saved Draco. It was Hermione who forced him to go to a Mind Healer when he got back to Hogwarts and told her what had happened over Christmas—after something happened that Draco did not tell Potter. Draco made it sound like Hermione had nagged him into submission, which wasn’t truly how it happened. But she _had_ held his hand through it and marched him straight to the mind healer to sign up for a session—and then made sure he went to see the mind healer for _weeks_.

Over spring break he had planned to stay at the castle because Blaise was traveling, so Hermione offered her house. Harry knew a bit of the story from before, but Draco gave more detail. Draco had never stayed with muggles before and was terrified, but he said yes anyway. Draco told Harry that it was that week that had truly changed his thinking. Both her parents knew what an arse Draco had been to Hermione during school, but they were patient and forgiving. They asked him millions of questions about magical upbringing, and they let him ask millions of questions about muggle things. Things he had been embarrassed to ask Hermione.

After that week Hermione asked if he wanted to be her roommate when she graduated. He talked about getting his acceptance letter to St. Mungo’s and being shocked they’d let him in. McGonagall confessed that she had written St. Mungo’s on his behalf and had enclosed letters from every single one of his Professors that year with their recommendation.

“Hermione never said you visited her parents.” Harry said, “She didn’t explain why she wanted to live with you after graduation. She _told_ Ron and I that she was doing it and if we had a problem with it, then she didn’t want to hear about it.”

Draco grinned, “She told me.”

They were sitting on the porch in a love seat. Draco had his legs draped over Potter, a cup of tea in his hands.

“So you don’t hate muggles anymore?” Harry asked.

“I don’t like the muggles that raised you.” Draco said with a frown.

“Well—there’s good muggles and bad muggles. Just like witches and wizards.”

“I guess I don’t hate them because they are _muggles_. But because they’re arse holes.” Draco said, then grinned, “I could put snakes in their lawn—or make all their plants die.”

Harry laughed, “No need. It’s all in the past.”

Draco scrunched his nose, “Is there anything that you—that you can’t move past? I don’t want you to be angry.”

Potter smiled, which Draco didn’t expect so he frowned, “That’s why I broke up with Ginny. She couldn’t move past how I left her behind seventh year.” Potter rubbed Draco’s ankle, “I understand why you made the decisions you did. I’m not sure I would have done anything different to protect my family. I’m not saying I _agree_ with your decisions, but I don’t think you agree with them anymore anyway. And after everything you did to walk away—that is very brave of you.”

“I don’t feel brave. You’re story—you’re a bloody hero.”

Potter frowned, “I didn’t feel like it at the time—I don’t feel like it now either. I was terrified nearly the whole time, I barely knew what I was doing.”

“I know you don’t like being called a hero Harry, but it is what you are. I’m not saying you didn’t make some controversial decisions—you’ve used as many Unforgivables as I have. But it doesn’t make you less of a hero.”

“The goblins don’t agree with you—I’m not allowed to go to my vault without a five goblin escort.” Potter said, and Draco smiled briefly.

“I was there after.” Draco frowned. He didn’t have the words to explain the gore, but he didn’t have to. Potter grabbed his free hand and kissed his knuckles, holding his hand.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Potter asked, “Helps me get rid of all the bad feelings.”

“Did you walk last night?” Draco asked.

Potter nodded, “You didn’t budge when I left or when I came back.” He smiled briefly.

“You could have woken me up.”

“No—I needed to walk by myself. Plus you were nice and warm when I came back.” Potter grinned as he moved Draco’s legs, standing up with a stretch, his stomach showing just a bit. His hand ran through his sex train, “You’re such a _snuggler_.”

“Potter.” Draco warned, glaring at him.

Potter grinned, pulling Draco on his feet, “You latched right onto me like a snarfalump plant.”

“I hate you.” Draco told him, “I did not—ug— _snuggle_ with you.”

Potter’s smile only got bigger as he ran his nose along Draco’s jaw, “You did. You latched onto me as soon as I got back in bed. Nuzzled me—

“I did not!” Draco cried out indignantly, “And I was _unconscious_.”

“I liked that I didn’t bother your sleep.”

“Regardless—you can wake me if you want to.” Draco said seriously.

“Ok.” Potter said, his thumb running along Draco’s cheek before kissing him. Draco loved the taste of Harry’s lips. He smelled so good, and his tongue made his toes curl, “Walk?”

“Yes.”

Despite Draco’s earlier protests, he was glad Potter held his hand as they walked down the beach. They moved onto less dark topics like Quidditch and how the Cannons were definitely going to lose this year. It was cold on the beach, so Draco walked close to Potter who was practically an inferno.

Draco almost managed to knock Potter over twice when he was being an arse, but Potter never retaliated. Probably because he knew if Draco got sand in his hair than he wouldn’t be getting any. They walked until their feet hurt, then turned around and walked back.

Dark clouds were rolling in on the horizon. It was late October, so too late for a storm, but it looked like a lot of rain. So they walked a bit faster on the way back. Draco could see Shell Cottage when the first drop hit him.

“Oh-no.” Potter said as another drop hit Draco.

“Sorry Potty.” Draco let go of his hand and sprinted for shell cottage.

“Arse!” Potter yelled, but sprinted after Draco. He playfully pushed Draco as he overtook him, so Draco grabbed his hand and pulled him back. Rain started coming down in buckets as they ran the last hundred yards to Shell Cottage.

Draco was laughing as they came to the stairs, and Draco took them two at a time. Potter grabbed him around the waist once they were inside the screened in porch and pushed him against the wall. Since Draco was freezing, Potter’s kisses felt like fiendfyre. He slipped his hands underneath Potter’s soaked jumper. A few seconds later Draco managed to pull it off, it landed with a wet slap on the ground. Draco was shivering as Potter pressed close, so deliciously warm.

“Shower?” Potter asked, “You need to warm up. Your lips are blue.”

“P-please.” Draco shivered, not really realizing truly how cold he was until Potter said it. Harry grabbed his clothes from the ground, walking into the house. They stripped in the entryway and put all their clothes in the laundry, walking in their boxers upstairs. Draco turned the shower up as hot as he could before stripping. The window was starting to steam up and the numbness in his fingers and toes were slowly dissipating. The door swung open and Potter walked in.

“Potter!” Draco yelled.

“What? I’ve seen it before.” He winked, “Plus, we can conserve water.”

“Couple showers always _sound_ fun, but end up being awful.” Draco said.

Harry chuckled, “You’re right—but this shower is small so at least it will be warm.” It was a small shower, with just room to stand in. So Draco just rolled his eyes before getting in. The water was hot and perfect, he closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. He heard Potter close the glass shower door and could feel his body heat.

“Fuck Draco. This is molten!” Potter whined.

“Some of us are freezing.”

“I think my skin is burning.”

Draco opened his eyes and found Potter standing close to him, not that there was much else he could do in the small shower. Draco raised a brow, “It’s delightful.”

“You’re a prat.” Potter said, “Move so I can get wet.”

It took some coordination and planning, but they swapped places. Draco had put his own shampoo and conditioner in the shower, so he grabbed that to wash his hair.

“I didn’t realize Bill had such poncy shampoo.”

“It’s mine you arse.”

“You brought your own shampoo?”

“Yes.” Draco glared at him. Potter looked ridiculously attractive just standing under the shower. His stag tattoo was prancing around in the water. When he opened his eyes, it was strange to look at him without his glasses. His green eyes sparkled with life and amusement.

“You are ridiculous.”

“I like nice shampoo! It doesn’t hurt anyone to bring my own stuff!” Draco argued, “Plus you seem to like running your hands through my hair—not so much!” He cried out as Harry dumped too much product in his hand. Harry managed to put some back in the bottle and it was a reasonable amount, “Move.”

They rotated. And Draco stood under the showerhead and washed the shampoo out.

“It smells like you.” Potter said.

“Well that’s good, I like the smell of this shampoo.” Draco said, closing his eyes and rinsing the shampoo. They rotated again so Draco could condition his hair and clean his body. It was difficult to do in such a tiny area. And though Harry offered his assistance, Draco thought that was counter productive.

They did manage to get clean and tumble out of the shower. Draco put on lounge pants and stole one of Harry’s extra flannels. He was a bit hungry, so he made a plate of cheese, meats and crackers. Potter worked on making some mead. It was still raining, but they sat on the back porch with a few warming charms and a small fire.

Draco talked until his mouth got dry, and listened to Harry’s stories like each one was the last. He loved how Harry’s eyes lit up when the story got exciting. He got very tactile when he explained missions, using coasters, knick-knacks and books to give a visual representation. Draco laughed so much his mouth hurt. Harry was enchanting when he laughed, his head tossed back and his black hair going everywhere. Draco couldn’t help but touch it. It felt so much better now with his shampoo and conditioner, and Draco told him so. Potter admitted it to liking it as well.

“We should get started on dinner—I’m getting hungry.” Potter said, “I have some meat in the fridge.”

“I know—I put marinade on it this morning.”

“You did?” Potter said excitedly, “Excellent. I’ll fire up the grill.”

“I’ll fire up the grill—you make the potatoes.” Draco said.

“I’ll flip you for it.”

“I made the marinade, I get to grill.” Draco said.

Potter scrunched his nose, “That seems fair.”

Dinner was spectacular. Potter made roasted potatoes and asparagus, and Draco’s steak was medium rare perfection. He was glad Potter liked his meat rare too—otherwise he would have had to walk away from the entire relationship. They drank while they ate, the warm mead adding to the warm conversation.

They cleaned up but then sat back down at the table for dessert. Potter had gone to a pastry place around the corner from his apartment and bought brownies. Paired with some ice cream, it was delicious.

Potter’s got more handsy the later the night went on. By the time they cleaned the dessert dishes, Draco was all for shoving him back on the couch. Harry pulled him towards the stairs, and Draco eagerly followed him.

“Want to open the box of toys?” Draco asked, pushing Harry into the room.

Potter blushed, taking a step back, “I sort of want it just to be you—no frills.”

Draco looked into those green eyes that were just so fucking earnest. He leaned and kissed Harry’s lips, emotions he didn’t quite understand pumping through his chest. He was shaking a bit as he moved Harry towards the bed, Harry was gripping his arms so tightly it nearly hurt. Draco needed to touch his skin. He wanted to prove that Harry wasn’t going anywhere. He practically ripped off his shirt, pulling off his own in the process.

His hands roamed over Potter. His skin was soft except for the occasional scar. Draco let his fingers linger on them, running his hands across each one to memorize where they were. His heart was thumping in his chest. _Mine. Mine. Mine_. The bed was a bit too small for the both of them, but it didn’t matter as long as Draco could touch Harry. There was an ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away, but eased every time he kissed Harry.

Draco made short work of Potter’s trousers and pants, his own joining them shortly after. He almost sobbed when Harry’s skin was fully in contact with his own. He bit his lip and pressed kisses to Potter’s chest, trying not to give away how much emotion he was feeling. He didn’t know you could feel this way about one person so quickly. His hands were gripping Harry’s hips as tightly as he could, the emotion welling up in him so rapidly that he didn’t know what to do with it. He rested his head on Potter’s chest, feeling like the only tether to reality was his hands gripping Harry.

“Draco.” Harry said his name so emotionally that Draco’s whole body tingled. And like the coward he could be sometimes, he didn’t have the courage to look up to see if Harry was just as effected as he was, “Draco.” He whispered his name again like a prayer, a request. Draco gripped Potter’s hips a bit tighter before looking up. As soon as Draco met Harry’s eyes, he knew he wasn’t alone. Harry’s green eyes were wide, his breathing short. Draco crawled up a bit, wrapping his arms underneath Harry to hold him close. The kiss was desperate, Harry’s grip on his back _hurt_. The kiss said more than what Draco would say—he was terrified this wouldn’t work—terrified of losing him.

“ _Please_.” Harry’s voice was raspy, so Draco abandoned his lips and moved back between his legs. For a moment, losing that skin contact nearly made Draco panic. His eyes turned to Harry, who met his stare with fire, “I’m right here.” He whispered. Draco nodded tersely, opening Potter’s legs a bit more.

“Flip over.” Draco instructed and Potter did as he was told. Draco pulled open Potter’s cheeks, seeing the hair get denser. Harry kept himself trimmed, but not bald. Draco liked it that way on Harry too. He liked the hair.

“Are you just going to stare?”

“Maybe.” Draco answered with a smirk before licking a swipe over his arsehole. He kept him pulled open as he continued to lick and suck. If the soft moans were anything to go by, Harry was enjoying himself. Draco let himself go, thinking only of bringing more pleasure to Potter. When he thrust his tongue inside Harry, the pillow barely did anything to muffle his groan of pleasure. Draco continued to lick, suck and fuck with his tongue, until Potter’s legs were quivering in his touch. When Draco finally slid a thumb into his hole, Potter was begging for it. He ran his finger over his prostate again and again. Potter tried to rock back on his finger, but eventually just lied there and took it.

“STOP!” Potter yelled, “Stop. I’m gunna come if you keep this up.”

“Ok.” Draco flipped him over. Precum had leaked over the bed, but Potter wasn’t complaining. Draco grabbed a pillow and slipped it under Potter’s hips as he settled between them.

“Draco.” Harry called to him, an edge of desperation in his voice. Draco rubbed Harry’s leg, moving closer to him. He grabbed the lube on the side table, running it over Harry’s hole. His finger slips in easily. The rim job obviously opened Harry up. Draco slid two fingers in with ease, and Harry bucked back on them. Draco didn’t spend much time with his fingers lubed inside Harry, wanting him to feel the burn. Opening Harry’s legs a bit, Draco held his cock and concentrated on pushing inside.

Draco let out a harsh breath when he bottomed out, focusing on not coming instantly. Potter was tight and hot around him, his arse fluttering. His hands were digging too hard into Harry’s hips, but he wasn’t complaining. He curled over Potter’s chest, kissing Harry’s lips.

“ _Draco_.” Harry sounded raw, his leg wrapping around Draco’s waist.

“Harry.” Draco whispered his name against Harry’s lips. They were chapped from being outside and kissing. Harry pulled Draco closer, making them both groan. Draco pulled out slightly and thrust in, grinding his hips against Potter’s before pulling out again. As he moved, he kept his lips close to Harry’s, brushing against his every once and while. Sometimes he would thrust and his lips would linger, tasting Harry’s tongue before pulling away again. Sweat was dripping off Draco and onto Harry, but he didn’t seem to mind. Harry’s breath was coming out in short pants.

“Draco.” Harry’s eyes were staring into Draco’s soul. Those fucking _green_ eyes that held nothing back. Draco grabbed Harry’s hand, moving it so both their hands were wrapped around Harry’s cock. Together in a slow pace, they wanked him off in time with Draco’s thrusts.

Harry seemed determined to keep eye contact as he got closer to the edge. His one hand held Draco tighter as he got closer to his orgasm. Draco could tell by the way he was clenching down on his cock. Draco’s toes were curled in effort to keep from coming. He thrust into Harry, who seemed determined to be as tight as possible as he clenched down.

“ _God_ fucking _damn it_.” Draco gasped, “You better come soon.” Draco whimpered as he stilled his hips for a second, trying to make sure Harry came first.

“I’m so _close_.” Harry murmured, his eyes were glazed over, his hand dragging down Draco’s back as he squeezed their hands tighter on his cock. Another thrust in, and grind of Draco’s hips.

“Ah!” Draco cried out at the thrust, closing his eyes. _Don’t come_. He was on a hair’s edge. If he just relaxed for a moment, he would come. Draco opened his eyes again, pulling out of Harry. Draco thrust inside, grinding his hips as he pulled on Harry’s cock. Harry’s breath caught as he ascended, his eyes rolling back in his head as his mouth opened. Draco felt him come around his cock, his arse fluttering as cum spilled over their hands. Draco thrust a bit more liberally, making Harry cry out with every thrust. Once, twice, three times and he was coming as well, his own hips moving slightly as he continued to come, muffling his cry in Harry’s shoulder.

Despite the fluids, Draco pulled Harry close and didn’t try to pull out. He kissed Harry like it was his last time. His fingers went through Potter’s hair, and Harry kissed him back with as much intensity.

Draco pulled his lips back first, resting his forehead against Potter’s.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Harry whispered so softly Draco could barely hear it. His eyes fluttered shut as emotion welled in his chest. His hand tightens on Potter’s hip.

“Me either.” Draco swore back, his eyes closed.

“We’re doing this.” Harry said. Draco opened his eyes to stare into Harry’s.

“Yes. We’re doing this.”

 

Draco didn’t know how long they lied there, tangled up in each other and just stared. Neither one of them quite wanted to close their eyes first. Eventually one of them cast a cleaning charm and crawled under the sheets. But Draco still held Harry close. Even when Draco fell asleep, he could feel where Harry was touching him the entire night.

The next morning it was a bit melancholy, if only for the reason they had to leave their little oasis. Draco carried their bags down stairs, going into the kitchen to make them something quick for breakfast. He just finished making them each an egg sandwich and turned around. Bill and Fleur were standing in the living room, both glaring at Draco.

“Harry?” Draco called.

“Yeah?” He was walking down the steps, freshly showered. Draco pointed to Bill and Fleur. Harry colored instantly.

“Hi—we’re rolling out.” Harry said, grabbing the sandwich in Draco’s outstretched hand.

“What is he doing here?” Fleur asked.

“You didn’t tell them it was me?” Draco asked, outraged.

“No!” Harry said, frowning at Bill, “You said it didn’t matter.”

“It’s me! You idiot!” Draco whacked him, “I’m the reason his face is carved up.”

“Stop! There is no need to beat Harry up for his choices.” Bill said calmly, and Draco barely refrained from hitting Harry again.

“I was going to tell everyone at dinner tonight.” Harry said to Bill.

“I—you are dating?” Fleur asked, “The Death Eater.”

“Reformed Death Eater.” Draco corrected. Fleur looked down at the Dark Mark on his arm, and Draco resisted the urge to cover it up. Her eyes were narrowed.

“I seem to remember you cheering on Harry’s death more often than not.” Fleur said, her accent wasn’t as thick as Draco remembered.

“I have forgiven him for that.” Harry said sternly, “I don’t have to justify who I am dating to _anyone_ , but I ask each of you to but a bit of faith in me. Please.”

The couple turned to look at Harry, “I trust you Harry.” Bill said, and then he his mouth twisted in a small smile, “I’ve trusted you with crazier.”

“I can make you both breakfast?” Draco asked hesitantly.

“Yes. I am ravenous.” Fleur said right as it looked like Bill was going to turn him down. “Vhat? He wants to serve us, we let him.” She plopped down at the table. Draco turned to Harry, who had a small smile on his lips.

“Egg sandwiches alright? That’s what I made for Harry and I.”

“Yes.” Bill said, before Fleur could say something else. She rolled her eyes. Draco handed Harry his own sandwich.

“Keep mine warm—don’t use the warming charm that—

“Makes eggs gross, I know.” Harry said with a grin, “Need help?”

“No.” Draco walked into the kitchen.

“He cooks?” Fleur asked.

“Yes, it’s one of the things that brought us together.” Harry admitted, sitting down at the table as Bill did the same.

“Hermione is benefitting from our expertise.” Draco said, turning on the gas burner, “She can’t boil an egg.”

“Hermione is a smart woman.” Fleur said tersely.

Draco turned to look at Fleur, “I know she is, I’ve lived with her for three years. But don’t let that woman in your kitchen.”

“It’s not one of Hermione’s strong suits.” Harry said with a laugh, “I don’t understand why she is good at everything else.”

“She doesn’t have the passion for it.” Draco said, cracking some eggs. He grabbed the other ingredients he used to make their egg sandwiches. It was easy because he had some already cut up, “What bread do you want? And how cooked do you want your eggs?” Bill and Fleur gave their answers, “And bacon for you both?”

“Yes, but my bacon just put it on for a few seconds each side.” Bill said, pointing to his face, “Curtsey of your friend, I like my meat on the rare side.”

“He was no friend of mine.” Draco said, shivering a bit.

Harry bit his lip, but Draco turned away from him and continued to cook. He was shaking a bit as he fixed up the ingredients. He could hear them chatting behind him, but he didn’t really pay attention. He could nearly smell Greyback. It took a few seconds, letting out slow and steady breaths to regain composure.

Draco set everything up on two separate plates. Two open face sandwiches with fried dippy eggs, cheese, avocado and fresh salsa, salt and cracked pepper. He put the bacon on the side of each. He put the plates down at the table, sitting in the one remaining chair next to Harry. Harry slid over his sandwich, but he wasn’t sure he was hungry anymore.

“Enjoy.” Draco said. Bill sniffed his for a moment before putting the piece of bacon and piece of bread on top to eat it. Draco didn’t wait to see his approval before biting into his own. The first bite woke his stomach up to his hunger, and he easily indulged in more.

“I didn’t figure you for a cook.” Bill admitted.

“I was quite helpless for awhile. But Mrs. Granger was a very patient teacher.” Draco admitted with a grin, “Mr. Granger and Hermione don’t like helping much, but they’ll chop if you give them wine.”

Bill looked at Draco, “I didn’t know that Mrs. Granger taught you.”

“Well, certainly wasn’t my own mother. I don’t think she knows where the kitchen _is_ in the Manor.” Draco colored a bit.

“You go see Hermione’s parents a lot then?” Fleur asked casually, but there was nothing casual about the question.

“Yes, or they come over to the flat probably more often than us going there. Mostly because their house is out in the country and Hermione and I don’t have too much time to go out there. But they both come into the city a bunch, and when they do they try to see us.”

“Hermione’s Mum cooks with you?” Bill asked, laughing a bit, “I don’t believe it.”

“You can call and ask her, I have her mobile in case there is an emergency. I—I don’t think this question qualifies though. But she will use an owl too.”

“Who would have guessed a muggle would have taught a Death Eater to cook?” Fleur said, biting her sandwich again. There was no malice in her tone, but Draco couldn’t help himself.

“Former—reformed—I’m not a Death Eater anymore.” Draco said sternly.

“You sound like ‘Arry.” She rolled her eyes, “ _I’m not the Chosen One anymore_.” She mimicked.

“I’m not.” Harry said.

“It’s not that I’m running away from my past—it’s just that I’ve worked hard to get to where I am.” Draco said patiently, “I _was_ a Death Eater.”

“I don’t care what you were—or what you did. As long as you treat Harry well, I’ll be fine.” Bill said.

“I plan to.” Draco replied.

The rest of breakfast wasn’t as horrible, and Harry had his hand on Draco’s thigh the whole time. He left to go to the Burrow, and Draco left to go to Blaise’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line about learning to shield his mind from Voldemort while digging Dobby's grave is taken from the Deathly Hallows. It says in Chapter 24 "His scar burned, but he was master of the pain; he felt it, yet was apart form it. He had learned control at last, learned to shut his mind to Voldemort (...) Grief, it seemed, drove Voldemort out... though Dumbledore, of course, would have said that it was love." 
> 
> I'm not sure if it makes him great at occlumency, but in case anyone forgot that tid bit. Because I did. I'm rereading DH now... for research purposes of course :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drama and injuries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does reference past sexual abuse of another character. It does not go into much description, but I wanted to give you a warning!

“Darling.” Draco greeted Pansy with a smile. He hadn’t seen her in some weeks as she had been traveling. She looked stunning, of course, in her designer robes and stilettos, “There’s no need to dress up for us.” Dinner on Sundays at Blaise’s was a mixed bunch. Draco was usually there, but Greg and Theo would come along too.

“I came from work.” She told him. Pansy found a job that had her busting balls all over the world, which was perfect for her. It also kept her from England, which helped as well, “You look radiant—whom have you been screwing?” She asked.

“More like who has been buggering him.” Blaise said with a grin, handing Pansy a glass of wine.

“Draco! Is it serious?” She asked.

Draco couldn’t help his grin as Blaise handed him a glass of fire whiskey, “We had a talk this weekend, and we’re going to give it a serious shot.”

“Good for you mate. If he hurts you though, I’ll kill him. I don’t give a shit who he is.” Blaise said.

“Well, if you could threaten him that would be great. I think I’ve already been threatened three times.” Draco said, sipping his drink.

“Who are you seeing?” Pansy asked.

“Harry Potter.” Blaise told her.

Pansy’s smile fell, “Well, I suppose we’ll never see each other again. We’ll only get to see Draco when he’s allowed out of the Golden play pen.”

“I’m here now!” Draco defended himself.

“Come on Draco, you can’t be serious about him?”

“I am.”

“But—but he’s so— _noble_ ” She spat the word out.

“Are you sure your experiences aren’t coloring him negatively?” Blaise asked.

“Fuck off Blaise. You would have tried to turn him into the Dark Lord too.”

“I was there, and no I didn’t.” Blaise said, “Not that any of this matters—it’s all in the past.” He tried to back away from that ticking bomb, but Pansy seemed intent on exploding.

“Potter would have fed me to the wolves.” Pansy told Draco.

“I—did he say that?” Draco furrowed his brow.

“I tried to have him killed.”

“So you’re assuming he wants you thrown to the wolves.” Blaise pointed out.

“It’s what you would do—Harry isn’t you.” Draco told her.

“Oh so now it’s _Harry_ saving poor little old me from the wolves.”

“He’s not like that—I’ll bring him over one time so you can meet him.”

“I don’t want to do that!” Pansy screeched and it took everything Draco had not to cover his ears. Theo and Greg had been in a different part of the house and came in to see what was going on, “You’re serious about this? This is a joke right?”

“No Pansy.” Draco said softly, but still with conviction. He turned to Theo and Greg, “I’m seeing Potter.”

“No—call him by his first name now don’t you?” Pansy taunted, “You always _did_ like cocksuckers who learned from older men—did he learn to suck cock on Dumbledore?” Draco frowned, rage burning through him. To say that about Harry was bad, but she knew what she was implying about Theo. And he wouldn’t listen to another word.

“Go walk it off Pansy.” He said, “You’re done here.”

“Fuck you.” She spat before turning around and walking out. Draco watched her disappear into the floo and he turned to Theo. He was pale and shaking.

“She didn’t mean it.” Greg told Theo.

“I did learn to suck cock from an older man.” Theo whispered, running his hands up his arms. Theo was right. Rodolphus had abused him for a long time. It had started off _barely_ consensually legal in terms of age. Theo had just hit the age of consent for a few days before Rodolphus was knocking on his door. Theo had admitted he liked the attention, the instruction. It turned abusive quickly. Draco was thrown in there somewhere as an escape for Theo while he was at school. Draco didn’t have a clue Theo had been sleeping with Rodolphus at the same time until much later. It wasn’t like Theo and his relationship had been very healthy either. It was Draco’s sixth year at Hogwarts, so he could barely focus on anything other than his own pain. Theo had suffered from Draco’s lack of attention. Theo held no ill will, always saying Draco didn’t know his suffering on purpose, but Draco still felt guilty.

“She’s still a bitch.” Draco said, and Theo grinned at him.

“Well, we always knew that.”

“So you’re dating Harry Potter?” Greg asked, looking a bit nervous.

“I am.” Draco said.

“Is he—what if he doesn’t like us?” Greg asked.

“He will.” Draco couldn’t quite help his smile, “He hangs out with Blaise and is fine.”

“That’s true—but not really since you two have been _seeing_ each other.” Blaise said with a grin and a wink.

Dinner went very well despite the drama in the beginning. And Draco was certain Pansy would come around eventually. Family fought hard, but they loved harder. He wasn’t too worried about it.

 

Back at his apartment that night, he walked through his cupboards and refrigerator to see what he had, writing down what he needed and a food plan for the week.

“Ferret!” The Weasel’s voice filled his flat, and Draco couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in distaste. He sighed, putting down his pen and walking toward the fireplace.

“Hermione isn’t here.”

“I know, she’s still at my parent’s house.” He said, he looked just as annoyed to talk to Draco as Draco was to talk to him, “Harry just got back—made himself a bath. It was a rough evening.”

“Can I step through?” The Weasel nodded, pulling back so Draco could walk through.

“What happened?” Draco asked.

“He was just interrogated by my entire family. I’m surprised he’s still alive.” The Weasel said, looking a bit sheepish, “George was upset. My mother was—very upset. Hermione’s indifference didn’t help.”

Draco nodded, running his fingers through his hair, “Thank you for flooing me.”

The Weasel stared at him, not accusatory, but like he was sizing Draco up, “He had this ridiculous smile on when he got to dinner. I haven’t seen him that happy about someone in a long time.”

“We had a good weekend.” Draco said, his cheeks heating up a bit.

“I could tell. He doesn’t like to talk about his past much—and I’m glad he told someone. I know cause I was there for most of it, but that’s different than telling someone what happened.” Draco nodded and the Weasel sighed, “I don’t like you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“Shut up Malfoy and listen to me.” The weasel growled, “Harry’s dealt with a lot—and he is dealing with a lot to date you. And I know you think you’re worth it—but he just had to fight my entire family, all people who _love_ him, and nearly everyone in the room told him you’re not worth the grief. And because he’s a fucking idiot, he has decided you are.”

“I—

“You nearly killed me, you insulted Hermione, you’re the reason Bill has scars. Your family has _never_ treated mine like anything other than dirt. Bill thinks trusting Harry is a good idea, it’s gotten us far before. And I do trust Harry—but I believe in covering my bases. You prove that Harry was shit for trusting you, I will eviscerate you and the aurors won’t find the pieces. Got it?”

Draco glared at him. Another reason not to like the Weasel, “Are you the envoy of ‘we don’t think Harry should date Malfoy’ party?”

“No.” He said, crossing his arms as if the answer nearly killed him, “I trust Harry. If he says you’re worth the time—than you are. But he’s my best mate, so I’ll protect him even if it means protecting him from himself. I know how much you love proving him wrong. So don’t prove him wrong here—okay?”

Draco let out a slow breath, trying not to twitch toward his wand. The Weasel was just thinking about Harry. Draco could understand that, “In this instance, I am more keen on proving everyone else wrong.”

The Weasel stared at him a bit before nodding, “He’s in the bathroom—made himself a bubble bath—the ponce.” The Weasel said it with affection.

“Thank you Weasley.” Draco said sincerely. The red head nodded with a small smile, and Draco walked away before they actually became friendly. He walked into Harry’s room, slipped off his socks and shoes and then knocked on the door.

“Fuck off.” Harry’s voice sounded tired.

“I’ll make it worth your while.” Draco teased, opening the door. The bathroom was dark with a few lit candles, and it smelled wonderful, “This is _ridiculously_ poncy.”

“Fuck off.” Harry said, but he had a smile on his face, “I like my bubble baths.”

Draco shut the door behind him, kneeling on the floor next to the tub. He kissed Harry’s hand that was resting on the edge, “I’m sorry dinner was shit.”

“Molly broke a pitcher with accidental magic.” Harry whispered, “Arthur was—silent. He didn’t say _anything_. I knew it wasn’t going to go great, but I admit I hoped for better.” Draco thought that was a bit naïve of him to hope for better, but he had no intention of saying that out loud.

“I’m sorry.” Draco could feel his chest crushing, “If it makes you feel better, I told my friends. Pansy yelled at me and ran off—insulted Theo while she was at it. Greg’s worried you are going to hate them.”

“I’m sort of glad it wasn’t great for you either.” Harry said with a sigh, leaning back a bit, “Sorry if that makes me terrible.”

Draco kissed his hand again, “Mind if I get in with you?” Harry’s grin was the only answer he needed. Draco stood up and slipped off his button down, hanging it up on the towel rack. He then pulled off his trousers and hung them up as well. His pants hit the ground as well, “Scoot up.” He waved.

“Why do you get to be the big spoon?” Harry asked with a sigh, but moved up.

“You can be the big spoon another time.” Draco told him as he stepped into the water. He slid his legs outside of Harry’s, sighing as the water sloshed around his chest. Harry eased back, his head on Draco’s chest.

“Tomorrow will be better.” Harry whispered.

“It will be.” Draco said strongly, wrapping his arm around Harry’s waist. Harry wove his fingers between Draco’s and turned his head a bit. It was a weird angle, but it was a comforting kiss.

 

Sherry placed a cup of coffee in front of Draco.

“I love you.” He groaned, taking the coffee gratefully. He had been on his feet for nearly ten hours but had been at St. Mungo’s for nearly sixteen hours. For some reason, it had been utter chaos on his floor all week. He barely had time to go home—he had used an empty hospital bed to strategically nap.

“I think your boyfriend would find that offensive.” Sherry said, sitting down next to him. Draco smiled at the thought of Harry, “You’re head over heals already.” She teased.

Draco scowled, “I am not.” He sipped the dark coffee, savoring in the bold flavor and taste.

“When do you get to go home?”

“Four more hours.” Draco said with a smile, “But I’ll be on call. With the luck we’ve been having, I’m sure I’ll be back in here.”

“Close to a full moon—you know how it is.”

“I thought that was only werewolves.”

“No—it affects everyone.” She said. Draco was rubbing his legs a bit that ached.

“I should go check on Patricia.” Draco said, standing up.

“Curse still spreading?”

“Yeah. It’s slowed to almost a stop, but it’s still moving.” Draco said with a sigh as he stood up, “I’m going to run more tests.”

He walked into Patricia’s room. She was asleep, but he ran tests anyway. It was a little past one in the morning, so it wasn’t surprising her husband wasn’t there.

Draco heard someone run past his room and then a few more. A new case must have come in. When Draco turned to the door, he saw Winston running down the isle. That wasn’t good. At this late hour it means he was called in. Winston didn’t get involved unless it was a horrible case.

Or someone important.

The thought made Draco freeze. He knew Harry had gone on a raid tonight. Draco didn’t know how many seconds he stood there before he took off. It was like he was stuck in molasses—he couldn’t move fast enough. He could barely see what was in front of his face.

The elevator doors dinged as he moved down the hall and he could hear someone gasping in pain.

_Please_.

Draco turned around the corner and saw Harry in the hospital bed. He could barely see him, but Draco knew his body right away. His back was arched in pain, his head tossed back. There were three Healers around him, all wanting to work on the case. Draco could hardly blame them, he salivated over new cases too. Winston was cutting through Potter’s robes to expose his legs. The scream that ripped from Harry’s lungs—it woke Draco up. He didn’t realize he had been frozen in place until then.

He didn’t know when he decided to move forward, but he was barreling through the people around Harry to get to his side. He went right to his face, his hand pushing back his dark hair. His green eyes looked a bit crazed before landing on Draco.

“Tell me what happened Harry.” Draco told him. He gasped again as Winston worked, “Harry look at me.” He tilted his chin, “What happened?”

“Ah fuck!” Harry moaned, “Fucking. Fuck. God damn burning hex—definitely a burn—” He let out a yell that nearly shattered Draco’s heart.

“We’re going to move him.” Winston said, and Draco nodded, looking up, “Can you keep a clear head in this?”

“Yes.” Draco answered.

 

It wasn’t a difficult thing to stop the burning, but it was definitely painful for Harry. Draco and Winston worked diligently, weaving a spell together to block it from spreading. Potter had a burn up his left thigh, it was a significant patch of skin. It wrapped around his skin a bit, going dangerously high up on his inner thigh.

Draco thought he was exhausted before, but he was dead on his feet by the time he put his wand down. Harry had to be kept awake the whole time and was a bit delirious himself. Once they finished healing as much as they could, Draco cut him out of the rest of his auror robes.

“First thing after I got hit was have Pope make sure my cock was still there.” Potter said.

Draco smirked, “It’s still there.”

“Are all my bits hanging out right now?” Harry asked, his tone was a bit airy—like he had been hanging out with Luna too long. Draco removed the rest of his auror robes.

“Yes, but we’ll get you a hospital gown shortly.” Draco said as Winston worked on wrapping. There were several different layers soaked in different potions to promote healing.

“You’ve already seen it—I don’t want your boss to get jealous.” Harry said. Draco stiffened and looked at his boss, who had turned to Draco with a raised eyebrow. Most of the nurses in the room were gone except for Sherry, thank goodness.

“Potter, there’s no need to let everyone know that I’ve see your bits.” Draco said, his tone exasperated.

“This pain medicine feels _weird_.” Potter said, “Do you think this is how Luna feels all the time? I think I can see Nargles.”

“What are Nargles?” Winston asked.

“Little creatures that fly around—I’m not really sure.” Draco said, “They’re not real.”

“Don’t let Luna hear that!” Harry practically yelled, popping his head up. He groaned and lay back down, “Draco?”

Draco knew this wasn’t going to be good, “Yeah?” He watched as Winston nearly finished the wrappings. Sherry came over with a hospital gown and the two of them started to dress Harry.

“When I’m released, can you come over and play nurse?” Harry said. Sherry snorted and Draco got red.

“I think you need to focus on getting better first.”

“I think a blow job would make me feel better.” Sherry giggled and Winston chuckled.

“Not if I murder you first.” Draco said.

“You wouldn’t murder me. I’m too attractive to murder.” Draco didn’t respond, hoping that keeping his mouth shut would shut Harry up, “Besides, we should celebrate my cock still being attached to my body.”

Sherry and Winston laughed outright and Draco couldn’t help but give a small grin. His face was hot.

“Let’s get you out of here first—ok?” Draco said once they had the gown on him, settling back. Harry gave him a dazzling smile but it was a bit odd since his eyes couldn’t quite focus.

“Ok—are Mione and Ron here?”

“They’re out in the waiting area—I can go bring them back here.” Draco said.

“Yeah! That’d be great. I love Mione and Ron. They’re the best.” Draco couldn’t help his small smile.

“I’ll be back.”

“Wait!” Harry had a strong grip for a guy half delirious, “Kiss?”

“For Merlin’s sake.” Draco kissed the bare part of his forehead, hearing Sherry and Winston laugh as he walked out of the room. Draco walked out into the waiting room, Hermione and Ron were both there.

“How is he?” Weasley asked.

“Burning hex—painful but it wasn’t life threatening. I can take you back to see him now. I’ll warn you he’s had pain potions so he’s a bit loopy.”

They nodded, following him back.

“Guys!” Harry greeted excitedly as soon as they walked in.

“Hold still Mr. Potter.” Winston ordered, waving his wand for monitoring spells.

“This is Healer Park—head healer on Harry’s case.” Draco introduced.

“Nice to meet both of you.” Winston said, “Harry has three lines of burns on his upper left thigh—

“That missed my cock!” Harry said proudly, Weasley laughed.

“That did not affect anything other than his thigh.” Winston agreed, “He’ll be here a few days as we regrow his skin, but that’s it. He’s loopy now, but will be in pain when he wakes up tomorrow.”

“Lasting impacts?” Hermione asked.

“He’ll scar in a few places, but that is it.” Winston said, “Lucky he came here so quickly.”

“Thank you Healer Park.” Hermione said sincerely.

“And thank you Healer Malfoy.” Harry added, “Can’t stay mad at him forever Hermione just cause he likes fucking me.”

Draco covered his face with his hands, “Shut _up_ Harry.”

“Sorry!” Harry said, “You like me fucking you too. We are a versatile couple.” Draco wanted to _die_. He wanted a hole in the hospital floor to swallow him up. Sherry was cackling.

“Can we knock him out? Please.” Draco begged, looking at Winston.

“Fucking hell.” Weasel looked at Harry, “I don’t want to know anything else about your sex life.”

“Sorry.” Harry grinned, “I’m feeling a bit like Luna—maybe that’s why I’m over sharing.”

“Mr. Potter, I need you to take this so you can heal a bit more. Say goodbye to your friends.” Winston stated seriously, though Draco could see his lips twitching upward beneath his mustache.

“BYE!” Harry said too loud and a bit too excitedly, downing the potion, “Makes everything feel weird.” He knocked out.

“Oh thank Merlin.” Draco let out a breath.

“Draco, I need to see you after a bit.” Winston said, exiting the room.

“Visiting hours start tomorrow at nine.” Sherry said to Weasel and Hermione.

“Thank you.” Hermione said, pulling on Ron’s hand. The two walked out.

“You look like death.” Sherry said.

“I’m sleeping as soon as I talk to Winston.” Draco promised. Sherry kissed his head.

“Take care of yourself—I better run off.”

“You should be home too!” Draco called to her as she ran down the hall, catching the elevator with Ron and Hermione. Draco shook his head as he walked toward Winston’s office.

“Shut the door.” Winston said. Draco did as ordered, moving in and sitting in one of the chairs with a plop, “You did great work today.”

“Thank you sir.”

“You should not have worked on him as your patient.” Winston said, “As your lover if there had been difficulties—you have to keep a clear head. If he comes in here again, I don’t want to see you in the Healing Room. Got it?”

Draco nodded, “Yes sir.”

“How many hours have you been on shift?”

“What time is it?” Draco asked.

“Nearly five.”

“Twenty hours. But I was on call anyway.”

“Go home. When’s your next shift.”

“Another night shift—then I’m on call for the weekend.”

Winston nodded, “Hopefully a slow weekend, but it has been a bit chaotic recently.”

“Full moon.” Draco said.

“You talk to Sherry too much.”

“She has the good coffee.”

Winston laughed, “Fair enough.”

“You going back home sir?” Draco asked.

“I’m up—I’ll work while I’m here. Go ahead and use my floo to get home.”

“Thank you.” Draco said, pulling himself to his feet, “I’ll be back in a few hours to check on Potter.”

“Sleep—he won’t wake up until three this afternoon anyway.”

“Right.” Draco nodded, grabbing floo powder, “Bye.”

 

Draco did make it back to St. Mungo’s right before Harry’s potion wore off. He ordered him more pain medication that was administered by Sherry and watched another healer re-wrap the bandages. It was difficult to keep a degree of separation, and Draco was sure to point out when the healer did something wrong.

“Why aren’t you doing it?” Harry asked, he sounded tired despite just waking up—but pain does that.

“You spilled the beans to my boss that we’re fucking—so I can’t heal you anymore.”

“I did?” Harry looked sheepish.

“Yes. And you told Hermione and Weasley that we like both sides of fucking.” Harry turned bright red.

“I did not.”

“Yes you did.”

“Fucking hell—why didn’t you knock me out?”

“I asked Winston to, but we needed you awake for most of it.”

“Did the Prophet find out?” Harry asked.

“I don’t think so—I haven’t looked. But I think I would have known by now. Winston and Sherry were the only other two in the room—and they wouldn’t say anything.”

“I am so sorry.” Harry said.

Draco plopped down on the chair next to the bed, “Don’t be. You were half crazy on pain potions—plus, it was just embarrassing more than anything. I don’t think my boss needed to know that I like fucking you—and you like fucking me.” Draco grinned, “Maybe I’ll retaliate and find a way to tell your boss.”

Harry laughed, “I’d like to see his face when you do that.”

“How’s the pain?”

“Not too bad. The pain meds are pretty good—they’re not the strong stuff though.”

“No, they want you more coherent today.”

“Can I go home today?”

“No—probably tomorrow though. It will depend on how your wounds heal today.”

“You don’t think I can convince them to go home today? Not even if Hermione checks on me.”

Draco scowled, “Potter. You will be here another day.”

Harry just smiled innocently.

 

Draco spent some of the day with Harry, but then went home to change into his healer’s robes before his shift. When he walked back out into the kitchen, Hermione was waiting for him.

“Ron told me I was being stupid—and I don’t think he has ever said that to me in my entire life.” Hermione said, then sighed, “And Sherry—I haven’t been chastised for my behavior like that since I was a teenager.”

“Stupid about what?” Draco asked, she frowned.

“You know.”

“I know, but you’re going to have to say it.” Draco said.

“Can’t you make this easy?”

“No.” Draco said stubbornly, “You haven’t.”

Hermione bit her lip, “I deserved that.” She let out a breath, “Harry seems really happy.” Draco nodded, staying silent. She shuffled around a bit, “I’m sorry. I guess I always thought Ginny and Harry would get back together after they dated around a bit. She’s one of my best friends too.”

“So you were mean to me because she had him first.”

“I guess so? Girl code isn’t a very good excuse.”

“It’s not.” Draco said, letting out a breath, “You are one of my best friends Hermione. You have encouraged me to make myself happy despite my past, to tell everyone judging me to go fuck themselves. But then _you_ held my past against me.” Hermione’s lip quivered, “And I was torn between telling you to go fuck yourself—but part of me understood that you _should_ hold my best against me.”

“You paid for your crimes.”

“Not enough.”

“Yes enough!” She said, a tear falling down her face. She wrapped her arms around herself, “You paid for your crimes.”

“It’s more than that—I was a bully and a twat.”

“But you’re not now.”

Draco grinned a bit reluctantly, “There are people who wouldn’t agree with that.”

“Well, I won’t ask some of the Healers on your floor.” Hermione said with a soft smile. Draco smiled back. Hermione took a step toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest. It was quiet for a moment, “I’m sorry I’ve been a shit friend.”

Draco hugged her back, a tight knot in his chest loosening, “I forgive you.” It was easy to do. It wasn't only because Draco had done much worse things to her, but because he knew she deserved it.

She backed away wiping away some tears, “I’ll plan a double date.”

Draco scrunched his nose, “Now I’ll have to hang out with the Golden Trio all the time.”

“That’s what you get for dating _Harry Potter_. There was a rumor today about you two in Witch Weekly.”

“Oh?”

“Just that you seemed cozy with one another in the hospital room.” She pointed to it on the counter.

“It will give Harry something to read.” Draco said as he grabbed it, “I’ll see you after my shift.”

“I’ll plan our double date!” Hermione says excitedly as he walked into the floo.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double dates and trial prep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have BIG NEWS.... *drum roll* I got a tumblr! It's Caedes12.tumblr.com.... I confess to being a frequent stalker of tumblr, but I haven't had my own since high school. And I never used it. So now I'm being a big girl. Come say helllooo. I don't know what I'm doing...

A few days later, Draco ended up walking into a bar looking for the Golden Trio for their double date. Things had been a bit awkward at the apartment. Despite Draco forgiving Hermione, it still would take time to heal. Draco was hoping going out all together with some alcohol would help heal the wounds. Harry had been released from the hospital, and Draco may have come over to play nurse. After all, Harry _did_ deserve a blowjob for managing not to blow his cock off.

Draco slid into the booth, “Sorry I’m late.”

“I got your owl.” Harry said, resting his hand on Draco’s thigh. Draco had some paperwork he had to finish up before he left.

“We ordered an appetizer, but Ron ate it all.” Hermione said.

“Snooze, ya lose.” Weasley said. There was an empty plate in the middle.

Draco glanced down at the menu, he knew what he was going to get already but he still looked at it in case something jumped out at him. They were at a Thai place not too far from their apartments.

“I am starving.” Draco said. The waiter came over just in time for all of them to give their orders. Draco ordered an appetizer to come out faster just to take the edge off. The bowl of edamame came quickly, so Draco managed to not eat his own sleeve before food came out. As soon as food hit his stomach, Draco started to relax.

“Did you not eat lunch today?” Harry asked.

“I don’t think so—that paper is due this week.” Draco explained and Harry Harry nodded.

“Paper?” Weasley asked.

“Writing a paper on the potion I used to neutralize Finch’s flesh eating potion.”

“Do you think it will get published?” Hermione asked.

“We’ll see.” Draco was hopeful, “Most people in my field don’t get published until later.”

“Hermione has been published.” Weasley said proudly, kissing her cheek. Hermione blushed.

“It’s a bit easier in my field.” She admitted, “Since we deal in a lot of unknowns—you make discoveries much more frequently. Because Draco’s is so heavily researched, it’s much more difficult to find something revolutionary. Since my field is lesser known, it’s easy to get published because I figure stuff out everyday. It’s why I went into the field in the first place.”

“So when you get published it’s a big deal.” Harry concluded, looking at Draco.

“I haven’t managed to yet.” Draco told him.

“You will.” Harry smiled.

“Ugh—stop being flirtatious. It’s disgusting.” Weasley grumbled.

Harry waggled his brows at the Weasel, “Pay back is a bitch.” He said right before he kissed Draco. It was a quick kiss, but it still made Draco smile, “And I have years to catch up on. And the few times that I walked in.”

Both Hermione and Weasley scrunched their nose, “I don’t want to see that.” Weasley said solidly.

Hermione grinned, “I don’t know, I might.”

Harry’s vindictive smile instantly fell, “No you don’t.”

“You are both very attractive.” She said with a raised brow.

Draco smiled at her, “I’d put on a show for you.”

“That is it.” Weasley put up his hands, “No. _No_. No! How about everyone keeps their clothes _on_?”

“I heard you are more adventuresome than that Weasley.” Draco said, sitting back in his seat.

“You two talk about me?” Weasley asked, “That’s not fair! You’ve had years.”

“I already know some things about Harry because of Ginny.” Hermione said, then smiled, “And one thing from Draco.”

“What?” Harry asked, looking to Draco.

“It was after the first weekend you two had sex—he didn’t tell me who it was over at the apartment. Just said he gave great head—intimidatingly good head.”

Draco blushed and Harry put his head on the table, covering his head with his hands.

“No more swapping information!” Weasley cried out, his hands over his ears.

“We’re _friends_. We talk about sex. This isn’t an odd concept.” Draco defended himself.

Hermione shook her head, “Harry and Ron are odd about that.”

“No? No boy talk _at all_?” Draco looked to Harry.

“We talk about other things.” Harry said.

“But—you didn’t help Weasley get Hermione?”

“No—the first time we had the conversation he might like her was—sixth year?” He looked at Weasley and then nodded, “Sixth year.”

“Sixth _year_.” Draco said incredulously.

“Yeah—I was mad that Ginny was seeing Dean and I asked Harry what Dean saw in her.”

“I said she had good skin—and then Ron said Hermione had good skin.”

“Good _skin?_ ” Draco turned to Hermione, “This is ridiculous. I didn’t realize he didn’t compliment you enough.”

Hermione smiled, “He does, just not in front of Harry.”

Draco turned to Harry, “So when you were explaining your crush on me to Weasley —did you tell him I had good skin?”

“No, that was a weird conversation.” Harry admitted, sipping on his water.

“How did you come out to him?” Draco asked.

“Well, I had George’s truth rum, so that expedited the process.” Harry blushed as he said it.

“That was certainly an interesting night. I learned so much.” Hermione said with a shake of her head.

“Yeah. I couldn’t get it up for a week after I learned some things about my parents.” Weasley shivered.

“How’d you tell them?” Draco asked Harry, nudging him a bit. Food came out so they took a short break to get situated, but as soon as the waiter was gone—Draco eyed up Harry.

“Let’s see—Neville was there.” Hermione started, and Harry blushed.

“Ginny said she thought Neville was hot and I agreed with her.” Harry said, “Neville said very politely that he was not interested in men, and I said that I liked men.”

“Everyone got quiet.” Hermione said.

“Then I practically yelled that I liked women too.”

“Not practically—you did yell that mate.” Weasley said with a smile, “I thought Ginny was going to explode.”

“Then Lee Jordan told me I was sexy and he was glad I wasn’t limiting my options to one gender.” Harry said.

“And that’s how Harry ended up fucking him in the broom shed.” Hermione finished.

Draco smiled, “You work fast.” Harry winked.

“How did you come out?” Weasley asked Draco.

Draco frowned, “It was a bit different for me. Obviously with my family, certain things aren’t really accepted. You can have dalliances with men, of course, but you only ever marry pureblood women. My parents knew Theo and I were fucking, but they both knew it wasn’t serious so they didn’t say anything. So I never really told them.” Draco felt uncomfortable, not knowing what response to expect from Hermione and Weasley.

“Ginny believed for awhile that I came out as bisexual at first and I was going to come out as gay later.” Harry said, and Draco knew it was to change the attention from Draco back to him.

“W-what?” Hermione stuttered, “But you had truth rum.”

“I know, she just thought I had only accepted the fact that I liked men.” Harry shrugged.

“But you’re not _gay_.” Weasley said.

“No, I’m not. Actually I hook up with women more than men. I think she was just feeling a bit insecure after the break up.” Harry admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Did you hear her and Neville broke up?” Hermione asked.

“Yes I heard.” Harry frowned, “I haven’t spoken to her much since.” The tone he said it in made Draco curious, so he would have to ask later. Hermione also quirked a brow, but didn’t say anything.

Dinner went well. It actually went really well. Draco worried he would feel like an odd man out with the Golden Trio and sometimes he was, but Harry was quick to explain things Draco didn’t know about. It helped that even if they talked about things he wasn’t there for, he at least knew everyone they were talking about.

They walked back to Hermione and Draco’s apartment for a drink, when they saw a figure standing in the doorway. Hermione slid her wand out.

“Pansy?” Draco called, she turned around to face him. She looked a bit distressed at seeing all four of them walking together, scrunching up her nose to look more like a pug than usual.

“Make sure it’s not polyjuice.” Harry said.

“Oh it’s me—first time we had sex was in one of the carriages after the Yule ball. You hit your head on the doorframe and came under a minute.”

“That’s her.” Draco said with a blush, “And I was fourteen! What do you expect?”

“You lost your virginity at fourteen?” Weasley asked.

“Some of us are sexually mature.” Draco said, opening the door to his apartment.

“Some of us were saving the world.” Weasley retorted.

“I know Harry’s excuse.”

Weasley scowled. Hermione pulled his hand, “Come on Ron, I think Parkinson wants to speak with Draco.”

“No, I came to speak to Potter.” Pansy glared at Harry, “We can talk in Draco’s room.”

Harry looked to Draco before following her into Draco’s room. The door was slammed shut and a silencing spell thrown at the door.

“Think he’s going to be alright?” Ron asked.

“I have no idea.” Draco said, “Anyone want dessert and a drink?”

“Yes.” Ron said, sitting at the bar. Hermione sat down next to him and nodded her agreement.

It was nearly fifteen minutes later the door burst open. Pansy didn’t look at anyone before climbing into the floo and leaving. Harry came out of the room a few seconds later.

“You look like you need a drink.” Draco said, handing him one, “What’d she say?”

“She wants me to break up with you.” Harry said, taking a large gulp of his firewhiskey.

“Why?”

“For your own good is what she argued.” Harry said, “Said the public scrutiny you’d be under isn’t fair. How all my friends would look down on you and you’d never be seen as an equal. Said it would make relations with your parents un-reparable.”

One look at Harry and Draco knew he was considering it. Of course he was—he was a hero. He would sacrifice himself for the better of others because he was that kind of man. Draco wasn’t about to let that happen. Draco pushed Harry back into his room, not really wanting to have the conversation in front of Hermione and Weasley. He shut the door and turned to Harry.

“Look at me Harry.” Draco said, and Harry did. His eyes were a bit too big and he looked slightly frightened, “The public scrutiny _you’re_ under isn’t fair, so of course when they see us together it won’t be fair to me either. But that is _my choice_. Got it? And the bull shit about friends—half our friends are now the same anyway. And yes, there has been a bit of a ‘getting used to us’ curve, but this is only the beginning. And my relationship with my parents was ruined four years ago when they kicked me out of the will. My parents might think otherwise, but I certainly do not. Ok?”

“It just seems like so much to take on.” Harry whispered.

“It is.” Draco agreed, not trying to minimalize anything, “But it is my choice what I want to do. And I choose you Harry.” He pulled Harry close, “Please don’t let her dramatics drive a wedge between us, or so help me Merlin I will walk down to the Prophet right now and announce we are seeing each other.”

Harry smiled brightly, wrapping his arms around Draco’s neck. The kiss was brutal, and Draco pulled Harry close. With a grin, Harry pulled away from Draco and dropped to his knees in front of him. Draco’s jaw dropped open as Harry sucked. He wasn’t fully hard, but he was quickly approaching it.

“Harry.” He groaned, weaving his fingers through Potter’s thick hair. Draco helped guide the pace, rocking on his toes a bit as his orgasm built. Harry had one hand gently massaging his balls and the other wrapped around his shaft. Between the two, Draco wasn’t going to last long.

And there was something about Harry on his knees that always got Draco on edge. Looking down at Potter’s bobbing head, he groaned.

“Not gunna last.” Draco whispered.

Harry sucked hard, pulling off him with a slurping pop sound, “That’s the point.” He stroked him still, licking the precum that poured from his head before bobbing back down. From then on it was only a bit of coordination and heat that had Draco spilling into Harry’s mouth.

Draco looked down to see Harry pull out his own cock, stroking it quickly.

“No don’t. Lay back.” Draco ordered, pushing him back a little. He was still reeling over his own orgasm as he kneeled over top of Harry’s legs. He grasped Harry’s hips before taking Harry’s cock in his mouth. He took him back until his gag reflex went off, then moved from there. Harry’s hips liked to have a mind of their own, so Draco gripped them harshly as he sucked on him.

“Oh _God_.” Harry groaned, “Please don’t stop Draco.” His voice was whining and a little breathless. Draco could hear his hands scrambling to find purchase somewhere. Harry was panting, his body moving as much as he could into Draco’s mouth. Another thrust and Harry was coming into Draco’s throat. Draco gagged a bit as Potter’s cock thrust too deep, but swallowed quickly. Harry’s breath was still quick as Draco kissed up his sex train, pushing up his t-shirt a bit. He kissed below his belly button before crawling up his stomach. Harry kissed him like a deprived man.

Draco pulled away from the kiss first, looking down at Harry, “Will you go on a date with me tomorrow?” Draco asked, “Somewhere in the wizarding world?” Harry’s smile was breath taking.

“Yes.” Harry answered.

Draco rolled off of him, hopping to his feet and buckling his trousers back up. Harry did the same. They walked back out into the main area of the apartment where Hermione and Ron were eating some dessert.

“Silencing charm.” Ron said, a blush on his cheeks.

“Karma.” Harry said, serving dessert.

 

Draco’s palms were sweating, but he didn’t let Harry’s hand go. They were in a little café in Diagon Alley for brunch. It featured breakfast sandwiches, so the idea was that they could eat quickly and get out of the press’s way before it got crazy.

“I don’t think I am going to be able to eat.” Draco confessed.

“Eat, otherwise they’ll read into you not eating.” Harry said with a huff, “It happened to me at Fortescue’s one time. I left ice cream untouched in my bowl and people boycotted it to make a point.”

“That is ridiculous.” Draco said.

“And even if you don’t feel like it, smile.” Harry added, shaking his head, “Every time Ron and I eat and it doesn’t look like we are enjoying ourselves, it’s in the paper the next day that we’re fighting. Even then, there will be articles down the line about us fighting because we’re walking through Diagon without bloody fucking smiles on our faces and—

“Harry.” Draco interrupted, pulling on his hand a bit, “We can get through this.” Harry let out a breath, closing his eyes, “We’ve survived worse.” Draco added wryly.

“I hate the Prophet.” Harry told him.

“You hated me.” Draco said with a smile, making Harry open his eyes and glare at Draco with a small smile on his lips. Draco couldn’t resist leaning forward and kissing him. The whole restaurant went silent and lights exploded. Draco grinned at him, sitting back in his chair. The waiter came over with their two sandwiches, dropping them off at the table with her jaw open.

There was one last flash of a bulb from the window.

“I feel like a fish.” Draco told Harry.

“When did they get here?”

“While you were ranting.” Draco told him, moving a bit closer to Harry.

“You kept me distracted.” Harry accused, but had a grin on his face.

“Trying to—do you think they’d notice if I gave you a blow job under the table?” Harry laughed, it was a bit forced, but Draco could see the tension easing from his face.

“Maybe a hand job would be best.” Draco winked at Harry as he grinned and the cameras went crazy.

“Let’s eat quickly, then we can go home and do that.” Draco told him, grabbing his sandwich. The food was a bit difficult to swallow knowing that everyone was watching him eat. It made him very self-conscious of his face, “This is quite good.”

“I do like egg sandwiches.” Harry agreed, slipping in a piece of ham that had fallen out of his mouth.

“Think we’ll make the evening Prophet?” Draco jokingly asked, eating another bite.

“I think the evening Prophet will go out early.” Harry said with a grin. He bumped Draco’s arm, “How are you and Mione?”

Draco let out a small breath, “We’re recovering. She apologized, and I accepted it. I said I forgave her and I do—but I’m working on implementing it.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to say I forgive you than to live it.” Harry’s voice sounded heavy with personal experience.

“I want to—it’s just been a bit awkward. I think we’ll be fine eventually, we just need to move past it.”

“If it helps, all three of us have gone through different times where we’ve been mad at each other. I think it brought us closer together.” Harry elbowed him, “You’ll figure it out.”

Draco grinned, “We will.”

They made small conversation through brunch, managing to eat quickly. Draco paid the bill, and the two held hands as they walked out the front door. The Prophet swarmed like bees, but Harry pushed through them. Draco followed him.

 

Of course they made it above the fold in the evening Prophet. The article wasn't as atrocious as Draco was expecting—but he had planned for the absolute worst. They took shots at Draco being a Death Eater, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Draco had been filtering his mail for years, so he didn’t have to hear one howler. The next few days after the article were a bit heinous. Draco could barely walk around without being followed by cameras. Thank goodness they weren't allowed in St. Mungo's. Fortunately, Draco had a lot of experience avoiding paparazzi. He employed every technique he had ever learned to keep from answering questions. Harry was spokesperson for the both of them since the press liked him more. He had come out twice to confirm they were indeed dating. Hermione had been caught making a statement to the press to show her support as well, which helped sway public opinion. Even the Weasleys said something positive, though Draco knew it was only to protect Harry. Apparently, the press had reached out to his parents as well:  _Malfoy Estate Remains Silent_. Hermione told him it was actually a good thing. His parents coming out in support would have swayed the public against him. The press seemed to enjoy the drama, so at least they were enjoying themselves. 

But with all the talk, Draco was distracted from noticing when the trial date for Rachel Rudger was coming up.

“You can do it Draco.” Harry whispered, squeezing his hand as they stood outside the courtroom. They were going through a practice run so Draco could be inside the courtrooms without having a panic attack.

“It still feels like despair here.” Draco said. The Dementors had only been allowed in the ministry during Voldemort’s reign, but Draco swore he could still feel their presence. The feeling of despair made him remember Azkaban, he could almost smell the salty air and feel the seemingly never ending wind. He used to push his back against the cell wall where it would be the least windy, sitting on the unforgiving stone ground until his entire body shook with the cold. It was a time he tried to forget everyday. A wave of Harry’s wand and a giant stag stood next to Draco, his presence immediately easing the tightness in his chest and brought him back to the present, “Since doing time in Azkaban, they effect me more than they used to.” Draco confessed.

“I understand.” Harry told him, handing him a piece of chocolate. Draco took it gratefully, “They always affected me more. I can teach you how to cast a Patronus.”

Draco looked at him, “You think I could do it?”

“Absolutely.” Harry said resolutely, “Come on. Let’s go in.”

Pope was waiting for them when they walked into the room. Draco only knew it because he could hear his gruff hello. Draco was staring at the ground, trying not to get overwhelmed. He took one more deep breath and looked up.

“Merlin, you’d think they’d redecorate.” Draco huffed, sitting down on one of the chairs but immediately got up when he realized it was the where the defense sat.

“I believe that’s in the next round of budgets.” Pope said, a small smile on his face, “Take the stand, I’m going to pretend to be the defense attorney.”

“You?”

“Well, if Potter tries it will end up being foreplay. And I have no desire to watch that.” Pope said, and it made Draco smirk despite everything. He squeezed Harry’s hand before walking up to the stand. Harry’s Patronus followed him though, which Draco appreciated. Sitting down in the witness stand brought back all sorts of feelings he had tried to put in a nice neat box in a deep recess of his mind. Draco bit into the chocolate again, looking to the stag and tried to push that box back where it belonged.

Pope gathered his papers, flipping his auror robes around dramatically as he pretended to be a lawyer. It was pretty obvious Pope didn’t have a high opinion of them, “Mr. Malfoy—

“Healer Malfoy.” Draco automatically corrected, “Mr. Malfoy is my father.”

“Healer Malfoy.” Pope acquiesced, “You were the healer when Rachel came into the emergency room?”

“On two separate occasions.” Draco confirmed.

“What did you see?”

“On the first, Rachel came in with a broken arm. I fixed it and then father and daughter left.”

“Did you suspect the father of being abusive then?”

“I did.” Draco nodded.

“Without any evidence. So every visit after that was bias?”

“No—I was suspicious because of the Father’s behavior. He was too quick to volunteer a story on how Rachel had gotten injured, and Rachel never confirmed that was how she got hurt.”

“So you’re a psychic?”

“In my professional opinion, which is why I am being put on this stand, when a parent or guardian tells the healer how their child was injured and hovers over them—they’re hiding something.” Draco said slowly. Pope ran through several arguments with him, bringing up his relationship with Auror Potter and how that taints evidence. They walked through how best to answer it.

“Get rid of the dang reindeer and lets run it again.” Pope said, “You won’t be able to have him during the actual trial.”

“It’s a stag.” Draco and Harry said at the same time, Draco got pink.

“Merlin help me.” Pope rolled his eyes, but ran through the arguments again. Draco was a bit nervous when the Patronus popped away. He was shaky at first, but he managed to become a well oiled machine by the time Pope said he was good enough. The trial was in three more days, so Draco had some time.

 

“Want to learn how to conjure a Patronus?” Harry asked as they were lying in bed that night.

“Can I still lay here?” Draco asked, running his fingers down Harry’s back.

Harry snorted, “Yes. The most important part is finding a memory. The happiest you ever felt, and let it fill you up to the brim before you cast it.”

Draco’s first time had nothing coming out of his wand. Harry had only smiled at Draco’s furrowed brow.

“I didn’t get anything my first try either.” Harry told him.

“But you were so young.”

“Still a difficult spell—keep trying.”

“ _Expecto Patronum._ ” Draco said again, and still nothing, “Will I get it tonight?”

Harry snorted, “Goodnight Draco.” He nuzzled into Draco’s chest, clearly not caring if Draco continued to cast or not. Draco tried well into the night, managing to get a small wisp of light out of his wand before going to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally imagine Draco correcting people about being *Healer* Malfoy like Doctor Strange....Hope you enjoyed it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial

Sherry shoved a cup of water in his hands.

“Breathe.”

“I’m gunna kill him.” Draco snapped.

“Everyone knows that—I just need you to take deep breaths.” Sherry said, “You’ll lose the high ground if you keep doing this.”

That made Draco back down slightly. Dermtree had almost killed Patricia with his incompetence. Draco’s throat hurt from yelling. Dermtree had a gaggle of people around him, cooing to him that Draco was the big bad wolf.

“They’ve never met a wolf.” Draco growled. He’d lived with evil, he didn’t land on the spectrum.

“No, they haven’t.” Sherry agreed, “And let’s not make it you.”

Draco nodded, “Has Patricia stabilized?”

“Yes, she’s covered in black to her waist.”

“Son of a bitch.” Draco said, “What in Merlin’s name was he thinking?”

“He wasn’t.” Sherry said

“What happened?” Winston came in and asked.

“Malfoy thinks he runs this fucking floor!” Dermtree growled.

“You ran a test on _my patient_ without discussing it with me.” Draco said, his voice shaking with anger.

“I got the _patient’s_ approval.”

“Because Patricia doesn’t know any better!” Draco yelled, “Not her fault she isn’t a healer! Any healer who had fucking been to basic class would have known not to do what you did!”

“It was a calculated risk—

“It was incompetence!” Draco interrupted, “And even if you had the patient’s permission, you would still have to consult me because I’m her Healer. And if I disagreed, we would have had the opportunity to tell her _together_. That’s how a hospital works, you god dammed idiot.”

“Draco.” Sherry admonished him, to keep him from name-calling.

“Healer Malfoy is correct, Healer Dermtree.” Winston said.

“He was sitting on his arse, waiting for a miracle! She needed to be healed.”

“Patience can save a patient.” Winston said, “Dermtree, you are benched. Malfoy, with me.” Draco glowered at Dermtree before following Winston to his office.

“You can’t yell at him like that.” Winston said.

“He almost killed my patient—he still might have nailed her coffin shut.” Draco hissed, “I know who his father is.”

“I know—Draco, you still can’t yell at him like that. You are smarter, cleverer and will definitely out rank him in the long run but— _you_ can’t yell at him like that. It’s political, you know it is.”

“It’s stupid and unjust. He might have _killed_ her.” Draco growled.

“I know that!” Winston yelled, “I saw her chart. It’s only an optimistic hope she’ll keep her legs, let alone her life.”

“She should sue him.”

“That would be her choice—but you can’t get involved.”

“Why not?”

“Not until her attorney’s ask, if she hires an attorney. Because of St. Mungo policy.” Draco huffed, sitting in a chair and leaning back.

“Fuck.” Draco said.

“You have to be smart about this Draco. Dermtree is the son of an important healer at this hospital and you are—”

“A Death Eater.” Draco finished for him when he paused for too long. He sat down and looked up at Winston, who at least looked a little sheepish, “I feel like a fucking Gryffindor, flying off the handle. But someone has to fight for Patricia.”

“Go home, get some rest.” Winston advised, “You’ve been here for nearly twenty hours.”

“If I go home, my thirst to fix injustice will only get worse. Potter can’t help himself.” Draco said, not stopping the small smile at the thought of seeing Harry.

“I’ll take the risk. Go home.”

“Fine.” Draco stood up, nodded to Winston and stalked out the door. There were a bunch of Healers that stopped whispering as soon as he walked out, so he glared at them and kept walking. Sherry was still standing by the nursing desk with Healer Sammy.

“You fired?” Sherry asked

“You wish.” Draco retorted, “I get to go home.”

“I would congratulate you, but you should have gone home awhile ago.”

Draco saluted her, “You keep an eye on Patricia?” He asked Sammy.

“I will.” The Hufflepuff nodded enthusiastically, “I’ll floo if anything changes.”

“I trust you not to kill her.” Draco huffed.

“What a great compliment.” Sammy said with a grin to Sherry.

“Don’t let it go to your head. I’m going home to where my boyfriend will be hopefully wanting to help me get over my terrible day.”

“I heard you two broke up.” Sammy said.

“The Prophet likes to write that every other day.” Draco waved his hand, “Don’t believe it.”

“I didn’t. You’re too happy for someone not having sex.”

Draco grinned, “I’m off before I threaten another Healer.”

“Bye Draco.” Sammy said.

“Tell Harry we said hello.” Sherry added as Draco walked toward the floo and out.

 

“I’m sorry.” Harry said as soon as Draco stepped out of the floo.

“For what?”

“The papers—that we’re broken up. It’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. You walked out of a pub with another woman that you don’t know and everyone assumed you two were together. Not your fault.” Draco said.

“I know, but you shouldn’t have to put up with it.”

“Potter, if you give me another martyr speech, I swear to Merlin I will smack you. No more fucking speeches about how you should break up with me because of all the press? Alright? I’m fucking over it. I don’t give a flying fuck about the Prophet. So let’s just fast forward through the fucking pity party. I’ve had a shitty fucking day, and I don’t want you to break up with me on top of it. Ok? I’d rather just get a blow job, and then get some sleep.” Draco heaved.

“Well, on that note, I’m going to go to work.” Hermione said, her face a bit pink as she walked out of her room and toward the fireplace, “But he has a point Harry!” She said right before she left.

Draco ran his fingers through his hair, “I’m sorry for yelling, I’ve had a shit day but that isn’t an excuse.” Draco bit his lip, “If I have a problem with the press, I’ll let you know—alright?”

“Ok.” Harry said, “I’m sorry your day sucked.”

“You have to work?” Draco took in his auror robes.

“Yeah, you are due in court tomorrow for Rachel’s case.”

“Fuck. Don’t remind me.”

“I’m sorry.” Harry winced.

Draco pulled Harry close, “You worry too much Potter. I’m not going to break up with you on a whim.”

“I know—I just worry it’s all going to be too much.”

“If that happens, I’ll probably demand a trip to the spa.” Draco confessed, “I love a good stone massage.”

“I’ve never gotten a massage.” Harry told him.

Draco grabbed his arse and pulled him even closer, “Might insist on one now. There are couple massages.” Harry smiled right before he pressed his lips against Draco’s. Draco was smiling as he kissed Harry, squeezing his arse again.

“I have to go to work.” Harry groaned into the kiss.

“I wish you didn’t.”

“I’ll be at work for a few hours. You’re staying here?”

“This _is_ my apartment.” Draco pointed out.

“Ok. I’ll be back soon.” He promised, kissing Draco again before walking to the floo.

“I’ll be asleep.” Draco promised.

 

It was nearly one in the morning when the bed dipped beside him, Harry sighed as he curled up under the covers.

“Why is it always my bed?” Draco asked, quick to put his head on Harry’s chest so he couldn’t move.

“You have a better mattress—and nicer sheets. And a better kitchen.”

Draco smiled, kissing his chest sleepily before letting oblivion take him.

 

Draco had already thrown up his breakfast, but he was sure he was going to throw up again. He was standing outside the courtroom, waiting to be called up. Harry had to be inside due to being one of the head aurors on the case, so Draco sat alone.

“Mr. Malfoy?”

“Healer Malfoy.” Draco corrected automatically, looking to the door. The prosecuting attorney was looking at him. Her name was Lauren, she was a bit older than Draco, mid-thirties. And if Draco wasn’t seeing Harry, he would have definitely pulled a move on her.

“You ready?” She asked, her tone kind.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“We’ll go slow at first.” She promised.

“I just—I hate the court room.” Draco said, standing up. He was wearing his best Healer robes. He adjusted them a bit, following Lauren into the courtroom. As soon as he walked in, the flashing lights overwhelmed him.

_“MR. Malfoy! How do you feel taking the stand to defend yourself?”_

_“Mr. Malfoy! How do you feel about your father’s prison sentence?”_

_“Mr. Malfoy! Do you think you’ll go to Azkaban?”_

Draco took a deep breath, trying to remember where he was. The press couldn’t ask questions here, though they sat dutifully in the gallery. Draco climbed the steps to the witness stand, trying to remember the feeling of Harry’s patronus. As he sat down, he subtly scanned the room until he found Harry’s eyes staring back at him. It wasn’t a patronus, but it would do.

“Mr. Malfoy—

“Healer Malfoy.” Draco corrected Lauren _again_.

“Healer Malfoy.” She said, a small smile on her face meant she did it on purpose. They ran through the information they discussed earlier, keeping the speculation to a minimum. But Draco wasn’t worried about this part. Lauren went and sat down, and the defense attorney stood up.

“Mr. Malfoy—

“Healer Malfoy.” Draco corrected.

“Is it true you are in a relationship with Harry Potter, _Healer_ Malfoy.”

“Objection. Relevance?” Lauren said.

“Goes to the integrity of the witness.”

“I’ll allow it.” The judge said, Draco was prepared for this, “Answer the question Healer Malfoy.”

“I am.” Draco answered.

“Were you trying to impress your boyfriend by bringing him a made up case?”

“It’s not made up—but I wasn’t trying to impress him by bringing him a case. There was a girl who was being abused brought into the ER. Harry is the auror I know best. If there were another auror, I would have contacted him or her. Harry and I were not seeing each other at the time.” Draco answered easily.

“Not one part of you wanted to impress the Savior of the Wizarding World?”

Draco scoffed before he could help it, “He’s just Harry to me. I’ve known him since he was eleven. Plus, if I wanted to impress him I wouldn’t bring him a case. I’d cook him dinner.”

“And bringing him in wasn’t a way to invite him to dinner?”

“I know what you’re getting at.” Draco said with a huff, “But you’re missing the point.”

“What’s the point Healer Malfoy?”

“Regardless of whether I was trying to impress Harry, which I _wasn’t_ , it doesn’t dispute the facts. This girl was systematically abused over a long period of time.”

“And you accuse my client?”

“Yes.” Draco said solidly, “The wounds were inflicted over several years. Whoever has been abusing her has had continual access and privacy to abuse Rachel. These are facts, they cannot be disputed. This girl _was_ abused. Her injuries are far beyond the realm of ‘just clumsy’. From my understanding, there was only one person with that much access to her. If you think there was someone else, please feel free to inform me.

“My job on this stand is to give you my professional Healing opinion. This girl was abused. There is no reputable Healer from _any_ hospital that would dispute those facts. The only logical conclusion is that her Father was the abuser.” Draco stared at him while he did it.

_“Diffindo!_ ” Someone shouted right before chaos broke out. Draco ducked behind the bench as spells were shot everywhere. There were at least ten people wearing cloaks and masks flinging out hexes. Draco peaked over the bench and shot a few off himself. One masked person was hit with his spell and flew back against the wall.

That was when Draco saw Harry lying on the ground. It was so loud—Draco had forgotten how chaotic fights could get.

“HARRY!” Draco yelled his name, but Potter didn’t move. Yelling brought unwanted attention; Draco ducked just as three spells went over his head. He had to get to Harry. His body was shaking with adrenalin as he moved out behind the bench.

Draco cast hexes and jinxes without any regard to whether they would get him in trouble later. A quick _incarcerous_ had Mr. Rudger tied up in his chair. His face was red as he glared at Draco.

“They’re coming.” He grinned.

Draco didn’t know what he was talking about, the men attacking were already there. Draco was shivering so hard he was nearly convulsing as he shot a few hexes, nailing one masked figure but missing another. The aurors were fighting as well and it seemed like the men who attacked were going to lose.

That was when Draco realized he wasn’t shivering because of adrenalin. He was cold. Every happy thought he ever had drained from him just as cloaked figures glided into the courtroom with _more_ masked attackers. The new masked people that came in were highly trained, knocking off aurors one by one. The reporters in the room were going in between taking pictures and fighting for their life. It was easy when the dementors were sweeping through the room, draining any will to fight.

Draco turned to look at Harry, but he was still lying on the ground. There was a pool of blood around him that hadn’t been there before.

“Harry.” Draco gasped his name. More aurors showed up adding to the screaming and yelling. Using the distraction, Draco crawled over to Harry. It was so loud with screaming and spells, but Draco could hear Harry’s ragged breathing.

“D-Draco.” Harry gasped, blood coming out of his lips. He looked so pale. Draco cast as many healing spells as he could think, trying to heal the wound that stretched from his ear down to his opposite collarbone. A dementor hovered over Draco, pulling his happy thoughts as he sucked, “P-Patronus.”

“I can’t do it.” Draco didn’t realize he was crying, “Harry please.” A dementor sucked on Harry, using what precious strength he had. Draco looked for Harry’s wand—his hands were covering with blood. It was everywhere—there was so much blood. Draco tried not to think about it, tried to think like a Healer instead of a bystander. Draco put Harry’s wand in his hand.

“C-can’t.” More blood was bubbling up in Harry’s mouth as he started to shake. Draco shot as many healing spells as he could, trying not to react as a dementor flew over him, pulling on him again. There was still shouting. Why hadn’t anyone used a patronus?

Draco looked at his wand, “ _Expecto Patronum_.” Draco said as another dementor swooped down on Harry. Even when just a wisp came out of his wand, the dementor backed away. Draco continued to try to heal Harry; he just had to get him strong enough to be taken to St. Mungo’s.

But the wisp of Patronus had attracted more dementors. They swooped down in waves, sucking the life out of Harry.

“ _E-expecto Patronum_.” Draco said again, but he couldn’t remember what it was like to be happy. His fingers were covered in Harry’s blood.

“Happy thought.” Harry told him, just before his eyes rolled back into his head.

“HARRY!” It was desperate, the yell pulling form his gut. His entire body went into the yell. Draco started to shake him—which was against everything he had ever been taught. A dementor came swooping down, pulling on Harry’s soul. Draco tried to shove him off, but his fingers felt like ice and the dementor didn’t move. Draco took Harry’s fingers, “Happy thought.” He said as the dementor moved away and another took its place.

Draco thought of a memory. He wasn’t sure if it was true, but he grasped his wand.

“ _Expecto patronum_.” He said the words and silver light bust out of the end of his wand. It wasn’t a full-bodied Patronus, but it was enough of a shield to keep the dementors away. They fed on the happiness of his shield until another Patronus bound into the room—chasing off the dementors. As soon as they did, Draco turned back to Harry.

“Harry!” Draco sobbed, trying more healing spells and a quick _Rennervate_. Harry’s eyes rolled open for a second but then closed again. But he was still there, he was still alive.

“Potter!” Pope was yelling.

“Needs St. Mungo’s. I tried to heal him but I can’t without—without potions.” Draco stuttered. Pope grabbed Harry and apparated away.

“You need to go to St. Mungo’s too.” An auror told him, Draco didn’t recognize him.

“I need to go with Harry.” Draco said.

“You’re hurt.” The auror said, just before he apparated Draco away.

 

As soon as they arrived at St. Mungo’s, there was staff around him trying to help. He wasn’t quite sure what floor he was on, but it was difficult to keep his eyes open and to focus them on anything.

“Draco, look at me.” John ordered, moving him in a gurney.

“I’m fine. Where’s Harry?” Draco demanded to know, trying to sit up.

“Harry’s with Winston. He’s in good hands.”

“I tried to help.” Draco’s voice caught in his throat.

“You did a good job.” John assured him, “We need to get you up to the Dark Arts floor.”

“What happened?” Draco asked.

“You’re right leg has sustained serious injury, as well as a few abrasions on your chest.”

Draco suddenly remembered getting hit when he moved around the bench. He crawled to where Harry was lying not because of the spells, but because he couldn’t stand. Pain was shooting up his leg.

“Don’t let Dermtree work on me.” Draco told John in the elevator, making him laugh.

“Even bleeding out— you’re an arse.”

“It’s a gift.” Draco said as the doors opened. One of the older Dark Arts Healers from the hall walked up, his name was Youngson. Draco hadn’t worked with him much, but he liked him. The Healer twisted his leg around, and Draco _screamed_. It wasn’t crucio because it wasn’t all over his body, but it fucking _hurt_.

“Good news is you can feel your toes.” Youngson said as he wheeled Draco into the HR.

“Fuck you.” Draco said, exhausted.

“I need you to stay awake.”

“I know.” Draco told him, trying to keep his eyes open. Youngson cast a few spells that cooled the area.

“Drink.” A pain potion was shoved down his throat by John.

“I don’ like this.” Draco said immediately, his head feeling weird, “Can I see Harry now?”

“Nope, we’re still healing you.” John told him.

“Can you tell me how Harry is doing?”

“He’s still in another Healing Room with Healer Park.” John told him.

“D-did you see him come in?” Draco asked.

“This is going to hurt.” Youngson warned just before a burning sensation radiated up Draco’s leg.

“Fucking hell!” Draco gasped, “More pain potion!”

“Nope, we already maxed you out.” John said. The burning sensation subsided a bit, but it was still there was Youngson performed other spells.

“Please go ask about Harry.” Draco begged John.

“You need to focus on yourself.”

“I am.” Draco nodded, “But Harry.”

“Ok. I’ll be right back alright?” John said, and Draco nodded. Draco didn’t realize he had been holding John’s hand until he gently pried his fingers away.

It was quiet in the HR, a few other nurses walking around Draco to help Youngson as he cast spells. Draco didn’t look down, he was afraid what it would look like.

“You’re almost done.” Youngson promised, and a nurse wiped Draco’s face off.

“You’re covered in dust.” She said, a smile on her face.

“H-Harry. Is Harry alright?” Draco asked, the pain potion starting to get to him. He couldn’t really see whoever was wiping off his face very well.

“John’s almost back.” The nurse assured him, and Draco nodded.

“We’ve done all we can for now. We just have to wait for the spells to settle in.” Youngson told Draco. Draco managed to find him through the haze.

“Damage?”

“You’ll definitely scar on the back of your thigh and your calf. Whatever hit you must have gotten you from behind. You’re lucky your arse wasn’t blown off.”

“That would have been awful.” Draco said seriously.

“Glutes are not difficult to recreate though.” Youngson said with a grin, “But your leg should be perfectly fine in a few days, though a little worse for the wear. We’re going to wheel you to a post healing room.”

“Ok. Can you make it a double room? And move Harry into it? How is Harry? Is he alright?”

“Draco.” John came into his vision, he looked serious.

“N-no.” Draco shook his head, panic wrapping around his heart.

“Harry is still in the HR.” John said quickly, “The only reason he is still alive is because of you.”

Draco’s throat burned and he couldn’t breathe, “Is he?—is he going to make it?”

“We don’t know yet.” John said honestly. Draco let out a choked sob.

“Are Hermione and Ron here? His family has to know.” Draco said.

“They are all here.” John assured him as they wheeled him to the post healing room, “Do you need me to contact someone for you?”

“Blaise.” Draco said.

“Blaise is already out in the waiting room, do you want me to send him back?” John asked.

“Yes.” Draco nodded. Draco was blinking back emotion, his body shaking with adrenalin. He had no idea how long he was alone before Blaise walked in.

“You’ve been hanging out with too many Gryffindors.” He said with a relieved grin, “You’re hurt.”

“I don’t really remember getting hurt, so that’s good.” Draco said, looking more at Blaise in general than at his face.

“He should get some rest.” John said.

“Sleep Draco. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Blaise told him, “Or Hermione will be here. John said you only get one visitor at a time.”

Draco nodded as John handed him a potion. He swallowed it without thinking and almost instantly his vision started closing.

“W-what about Harry? I still want to be awake if—” The potion was too strong, and Draco passed out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sorry* :D


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up to drama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr Caedes12 for updates and musings on Drarry!

Draco could hear before he could open his eyes. There was a rustle of parchment and soft breathing, so he knew he wasn’t alone. He was surprised when he opened his eyes and Hermione was sitting next to him.

“Harry?” Draco’s voice croaked.

“You’re awake!” Hermione said excitedly with a smile.

“Harry?” Draco asked again, focusing his eyes on Hermione.

“He’s alright.” Draco let out a whoosh of breath, “Apparently he was attacked first because they knew he would be a threat otherwise with the dementors.”

“He awake?” Draco asked, trying to sit up more.

“Yes, he woke up a few hours ago.”

“Why was I still asleep?” Draco asked.

“They had to give you two potions to knock you out. You kept insisting you had to stay awake for Harry.” Hermione said with a kind smile.

“I don’t remember.” Draco frowned, trying to think back. But his memory was just in patches. He looked down at his leg that was covered in bandages.

“It is still bleeding in a few places, but you should be alright.”

“I want to go see Harry.” Draco said.

Hermione sighed, rolling up her parchment, “I should convince you to stay here.”

“I’m dragging myself to find him one way or another.” Draco said. Hermione nodded, transfiguring her chair into a wheel chair. Because they were both healers, they managed to get Draco into the wheel chair with ease. His leg hardly hurt at all. It was sticking straight out on a rest, bending it so soon would not be advisable.

Hermione eased her way out into the halls, careful not to bump Draco’s leg on anything.

“Guess who’s awake?” Hermione said with a grin to John, who was sporting a black eye.

“The champion boxer.” John frowned.

“What?” Draco looked to Hermione.

“Oh you did this.” John said, pointing to his eye.

“I-I don’t remember.”

“Convenient.” John said with a frown.

“No—I’m serious. The last thing I remember is Blaise coming into the room and you giving me a pain potion.”

John frowned, “You were asleep for maybe thirty seconds, then you kept demanding to be taken to Harry. You wouldn’t sit still.” Draco blushed, “You punched me to keep me from dosing you.” John grinned, “But I won in the end.”

“How long have I been out?”

“A little over two days.” John said.

“I’m sorry John.”

John shook his head, “You were clearly delirious. Plus, I got to tell a fun story to the wife.” He winked before walking along. Hermione pushed Draco down the hall some more, finally stopping at the last room.

“You’re awake!” Harry said excitedly though his voice sounded cracked, looking past Kingsley and Robards as Draco was wheeled in. Draco moved as close as he could, adjusting his chair a bit so he could move close without hitting his foot. He took Harry’s hand and squeezed it.

“What’s your prognosis?” Draco asked.

“Sliced my voice box up pretty good, which is why my voice sounds weird. I’m supposed to keep talking through it. I’ll scar. Lost a bunch of blood. But I’ll be fine.” Harry told him. Draco squeezed his hand again.

“We are trying to get his statement.” Robards said, “But you might be able to help us with a timetable of events.”

Draco nodded, “What happened to Rudger?”

“He was tied to the chair when we found him—but he had been killed.” Kingsley said.

“I tied him to the chair.” Draco said with some pride.

“You’ll have to teach some of our aurors how to do that—it was nearly impossible to break.” Robards joked, Draco was disinclined to tell them he learned from his insane aunt, “But it seems the second faction of people coming through the door were sent to take Rudger out.”

“Why were there two groups of people attacking?”

“Apparently Rudger accidentally started some sort of war between two factions.” Kingsley explained, “He called in a lot of favors to get protection—and no one liked him. They were there to take him out—he was worth more dead than alive.”

“But he knew the dementors were coming.” Draco said. That made them both frown.

“Perhaps he knew about the dementors and not the men trying to kill him.” Robards said, scratching down some notes, “But we will have to look into that.” Kingsley and Robards asked him questions, and Draco answered them as honestly as he could remember. They were both nodding, so it must have matched up with what they had already heard.

“Who cast the other patronus?” Kingsley asked Draco, “Harry claims he did not.”

“I don’t know who cast the other patronus. It was a something cat like on all fours.”

“The Lynx was mine.” Kingsley said, “Who cast the other patronus? We thought it was Harry’s. But he was passed out.”

“I cast the other patronus.” Draco said, “The shield.”

“Y-you did?” Harry asked, looking at him.

“It wasn’t a full bodied Patronus—but enough to keep the dementors back until Kingsley’s got there.”

“Well, we’ll leave you two to chat.” Kingsley said with a wink, “Best get some rest! Hermione, I have a few questions for you.” All three hurried out of the room.

“Can you slide on up here?” Harry asked. It was unadvisable, but Draco did it anyway. He enlarged the bed a bit, and managed to look a bit graceful as he swiveled into the bed, pushing his wheel chair away with his wand.

Harry was smiling. Draco felt like his heart was melting into his chest. He leaned over and brushed his lips against Harry’s, careful of his wound. Harry kissed him again, but chastely considering his neck had just been sliced up.

“Harry you’re—oh, hello Draco.” Winston said as he walked in, “You should be in your own room.”

“Why?” Draco asked.

“Youngson is looking for you—you need a few more healing spells.” Draco scrunched up his nose. He managed to ease out onto the wheelchair. He squeezed Harry’s hand one last time before wheeling himself out.

“There you are!” Youngson called, taking over pushing his chair, “We got to rotate your bandages, try to get you walking today.”

“Ok” Draco made his own goal to walk back to Potter’s room by the end of the day.

 

The Prophet was allowed to release the story a few days later. Because the press had been allowed to go to the trial, there were hundreds of pictures of the event up until the point the dementors came in. They all showed Draco in a flattering light, calling him Healer Draco Malfoy instead of Death Eater Draco Malfoy.

“Oh my poor dear.” Mrs. Granger kissed his forehead, “You need a good home cooked meal.” Mrs. Granger had come over to help Draco. Draco had insisted he didn’t need her help, but she had come over anyway, “You can’t survive on take out!” Draco had been trying. Hermione wasn’t a very good cook, and it was difficult for Draco to stand for very long. He was on leave from work, but he was already itching to go back.

Harry at least was a bit more mobile than him, but he was still weak from losing so much blood. But Harry could go into work and do paperwork. But Draco thought he only wrangled that because Robards was insane.

“At least let me help cut stuff up.” Draco bargained.

She smiled, “I was going to make you do that anyway. We’ll prepare a bunch of stuff so you can just heat it up—alright?”

“And something for now—I’m hungry.” Draco said. He had his leg propped up on the other bar stool. It had been a bit stiff and so he had to keep it elevated when he wasn’t trying to walk on it. He was wearing athletic shorts, which he _hated_ with company over, but he couldn’t really put on a pair of khaki’s with the bandages. The skin was still growing, so it was extremely sensitive. Draco loved chatting with Mrs. Granger—who insisted on being called Jean. Her husband was running the dentist practice today as she took care of Draco.

They had been cooking up a storm so Draco would have food for a fortnight, putting some stuff in the freezer so he could keep it for longer. She slid over his very late lunch when there was a knock on the door.

“You expecting anyone?” She asked.

“No—probably trying to sell us something.” Sometimes muggles did that—which Draco found obnoxious. How they managed to get through the front door that was supposed to be locked at all times was a mystery to him. Jean walked around the corner to get the door and Draco bit into his sandwich. It was delicious.

“Draco.” Jean called him. Her tone made him nervous so he grasped his wand, not sure how much he could do in his current situation. When she walked around the corner, Draco’s jaw dropped.

“Mum?” Draco couldn’t believe his mother even knew where he lived. He hadn’t seen her in over four years. The last time he saw her was Christmas during his eighth year. He closed his jaw, worried about Jean, “Jean—thank you for all the food.” Jean didn’t know how much danger she was in.

“You’re welcome dear. I better head home before Carl gets worried.” She kissed Draco’s forehead, “You take care of yourself—alright. You call if you need anything.”

“I will—I promise.” Draco swore, smiling up as Jean rubbed his shoulder.

“Alright, I’ll let you two catch up.” She waved her hand before walking out the door.

“Who was that woman?” His mother asked tersely.

“Hermione’s Mum.” Draco answered.

“A muggle?” His mother sneered.

“Yes. A muggle. She just helped me cook food for the next two weeks so I don’t have to.” Draco snapped. He let out a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, “What are you doing here?”

“Came to check on you. We saw the paper.”

“Well, as you can see—I’m fine.” It was several days after his injury had hit the papers, so she obviously wasn’t too concerned.

“Your leg?”

“Healing.” Draco said tersely.

“Your father and I are moving back to England.”

“Why?” Draco asked.

“We think it is time.”

Draco ground his teeth, knowing exactly why his parents thought it was time, “Harry will not help either of you in your political ambitions.” Draco said flatly, “So if that’s why you’re moving back, you might as well stay in France.” He let out a shaky breath, “I worked hard for _my name_ to be cleared.” His mother was quiet, “Is there anything else?”

“You are dating the Potter boy?” She asked, her eyebrow rose. Draco knew the expression— _disdain_. It was the condescending kind. And she knew the answer to the question, she just asked it to make Draco feel small. But he wouldn’t feel small, not anymore.

“Yes I am.” Draco answered, not caring. Draco sat in silence, refusing to apologize for it. She opened her mouth to speak again right as the floo went off, Harry tumbled out of it because he was bloody awful at taking the floo.

“Draco.” He smiled, turning to his Mum, “Mrs. Malfoy, how are you?” He didn’t look or sound surprised, so he was somehow told.

“Quite well.” She said stiffly.

“Well that’s good.” Harry said when she didn’t say anything more. He walked up to Draco, “You take your next round of potions?”

“No, I can’t take them until I eat.” Draco waved to his sandwich that only had a bite.

“Eat, so you can take your potions. You get tetchy without it.” Harry said with a grin.

“I do not.” He said, but Harry was just smiling. Draco grabbed a bite of his sandwich.

“I am aware you two are lovers.” His mum said.

“Yeah, the entire wizarding world knows.” Draco told her right before swallowing his bite of food.

“Your father is not pleased.”

“I don’t care what he thinks.” Draco said, taking another bite, “You two haven’t been in my life for four years.”

“You chose that Draco.” His mother said.

“Ch-chose it?” Draco put down his food, indignation rising in his chest, “You _threw_ me out of the house! You gave me a chunk of money and told me that I was on my own!”

“You refused to marry Astoria! You wouldn’t even meet her. She is a very nice girl.”

“I don’t care.” Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, “I choose my life now mother.”

“And this is what you choose?” His mother wrinkled her nose, “It is a hovel, Draco. You have a _roommate_.” She spat the word like it was disgusting. Draco looked around his apartment. It was well decorated, quite cozy. Not any Gryffindor colors in sight.

“I like living with Hermione. And I like living here. It’s nice not to hear my shoes echo down empty halls when I’m home—it’s nice not to wear shoes at home.”

“You live with that _mudblood_?”

Draco felt like there was a fire under his skin, “Use that word again, and you will be out of this flat. Do you understand?”

She frowned but nodded, looking away from Draco. Draco looked to Harry who squeezed his hand. He was glad Harry was here, but he was also glad Harry was sitting back.

“I don’t know this side of you.” His mother confessed.

“It was always there, I just suppressed it.” Draco said, “This is who I am.”

“You should be on the Wizengamot, working like your father.” His mother said.

“I would have hated that. I _love_ what I do. I _love_ where I live and whom I live with. It was horrible at first, but you kicking me out was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

His mother looked away from him again, and Draco could swear he saw moisture in her eyes. She looked down at her hands, swirling her Malfoy crested ring around her finger.

“It is not easy hearing that your son is better without you.”

“I love you Mum” Draco said, “But if you want to be a part of my life, you have to accept it for who I am—who my friends are and who my boyfriend is.”

“Fine. Then you will come over for Sunday dinner.”

“I can’t—I’m going to the Burrow on Sunday.” Draco said, he was very nervous about that but wouldn’t say so in front of his Mum.

“How about we make you dinner here—a fortnight on Saturday.” Harry suggested.

“Hermione?” Draco turned to Harry.

“Ron and Hermione are gone—she got him Cannon tickets so they’ll be away all weekend.” Harry explained, and Draco nodded.

“Eat _here_?” His mother asked.

“We’re both excellent chefs.” Draco said, “If-if you want to come over.”

“Fine. I suggest you clean up before we arrive.” She kept her nose in the air as she walked out the door. As soon as the door slammed shut, Draco let out a breath.

“How’d you get here?” Draco asked.

“Jean called me. She was lucky I wasn’t in the ministry or I wouldn’t have had signal. I wasn’t sure if I should come or not, but Pope reckoned I should.”

“He reckoned right—thank you.” Draco squeezed his hand, “And dinner was a good suggestion.” Harry was rubbing his back gently and Draco leaned into the touch, “I haven’t seen her in four years.” Emotions bubbled up in his throat and it burned. His parents had abandoned him and just expected to waltz right back in? He turned into Harry’s chest, trying to focus on just breathing normally.

“Want me to draw you a bath? I’ll go to my apartment and get all the poncy stuff.” Harry suggested.

Draco nodded, fiddling with a couple of threads on Harry’s auror robe. As he thought the meeting through, he drew back, “Why weren’t you in the ministry? You’re supposed to be on desk duty.”

“Um—I was out on a case. It’s just a little one.” Harry said nervously.

“Harry—you’re recuperating. You still sound weird.”

“Healer isn’t sure this isn’t permanent—this might be what I sound like forever.”

Draco frowned, “Hm. Might have to reconsider you then.”

Harry laughed, kissing his head again, “I’ll be back. Why don’t you start drawing a bath?”

“Alright.” Draco pulled him a bit closer, leaning up for a kiss. Harry indulged. Draco loved his kisses. It made his whole body feel warm and cherished. Draco’s toes curled as he tilted his head up for more. More heat. More tongue. Harry broke away.

“Give me a minute.” Harry said, kissing him one last time before walking to the floo. Draco scrunched up his nose as he left—he depended on Harry a bit too much. Draco shook his head as he walked into his own bathroom, starting to fill the tub. It wasn’t the most luxurious, but it would do. The tub was still filling up when Harry came back. He had an overnight bag and had taken off his auror robes. Draco reached out to Harry, winding his fingers in a jean belt loop to pull him close. He rested his head on Harry’s chest, just listening to the sound of the bath water run. Draco’s thoughts were moving so quickly through his head, Draco couldn’t catch one. Half a thought was formed before another came into play, but his chest ached like it was too tight and his throat burned.

Harry was silent, just running his fingers gently through Draco’s hair. He squeezed Draco’s shoulder for a moment, stepping away. When he came back, he helped Draco get undressed and then moved him to the tub. There were plenty of bubbles and it smelled fantastic as Draco sunk down into the tub. Harry climbed in behind him, pulling Draco tight against his chest.

“You just wanted a chance to get to be the big spoon.” Draco said. Harry kissed behind his ear, but Draco could feel the smile on his lips.

“Want to talk about it?” Harry asked.

“I haven’t forgiven them for throwing me out—I’m not sure how we’re supposed to sit down and have dinner. If they pretend—if they pretend that nothing happened—” Draco stopped talking because his throat closed up, he tried to press himself closer to Harry who wrapped his arms around his chest, “I nearly killed myself because they wrote me out of the will and she just waltzes back in like it hadn’t been four years. Implied they wanted to move back to London because now the Malfoy name isn’t mud.” Draco stopped again, his throat was on fire. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back.

“Did you try to reach out to them before this?” Harry asked.

Draco was grateful Harry couldn’t see his face when he said, “Yes.” Tears had leaked out. Harry held him tightly, like if he let go Draco was going to fall apart. He let the burning in his throat die down. When he was sure his voice would be solid, he continued, “I told you I was in therapy when I got back to Hogwarts after Christmas. The mind healer was great, she helped me vocalize my feelings. But—part of that was healing with my parents. We wrote a letter together to invite them to come to a session, hear everything out.” Draco’s throat closed again and he suddenly didn’t care anymore if Harry heard the emotion in his voice, “I must have revised the letter hundreds of times to make sure it was perfect. I never got a response and I _know_ they got the letter.” There was a bit more that happened after. But shame gripped him even tighter than Harry. He couldn’t say it out loud to Harry. Not yet. The _after_ was horrible, but it lead to everything he had now.

Harry pressed his lips to Draco’s shoulder, not loosening his grip even a little bit.

“But despite all that—I really believe them leaving me was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Draco choked out.

“But you are who you are _in spite_ of them abandoning you. You were always an incredible person, this was inside you all along. Your success today is because of _your_ hard work.” Draco nodded weakly and Harry kissed behind his ear again. When he closed his eyes, the burning sensation in his throat dissipated a bit as he sank back down into the tub. He took one of Harry’s hands and wove his fingers through Harry’s.

Soft music was playing, so Draco let the notes take him away. His thoughts didn’t seem to overwhelm him as Harry ran his thumb over his hand—still holding him tightly. Draco closed his eyes, getting lost in the rhythm of Harry’s breathing. He wasn’t sure how long they sat there.

“I cannot believe you have so many poncy bath things.” Draco said.

“I pulled out the expensive bubbles for you, I’ll have you know.” Harry’s voice sounded heavy, like he had almost fallen asleep.

“I’m grateful.” Draco said, tilting his head to see Harry, “But I think I’m ready to get out.” The water had gotten a bit too cool. Harry nodded, kissing Draco’s shoulder right before they got out. Draco was glad they were at his apartment because he had the big fluffy towels that had been warmed up on the towel rack.

“What do you want to do?” Harry asked as Draco slid on pants.

“I just—can we lie in bed and—

“Snuggle?” Harry finished for him, smiling.

Draco scowled, “I hate that word.” But he did slide into his bed. As soon as he hit the pillow, his eyes got heavy. Harry slid in the bed next to him, pulling him close, “I might take a nap.”

“I’ll wake you up for dinner.” Harry promised. Draco could feel Harry’s strong calloused hands rubbing him gently as he fell asleep.

 

 

“Draco?” Harry called to him. He woke to Harry’s kisses up his arm. Draco rolled toward Harry, keeping his eyes closed as he blindly reached out to him. Harry eased in to his side of the bed and Draco curled around him, his head on Harry’s chest, “I’m making some dinner.”

“Ok.” Draco said sleepily.

“And you have to put on some clothes before you come out—you have guests.”

“Guests?” He opened his eyes with a frown.

“Well, Hermione and Ron are here. Then Blaise found out and brought Theo and Greg—Pansy is also here, but she’s pretending like I don’t exist so I’m not sure if I should acknowledge her presence or not.”

“How—why are they all here?”

“They found out your Mum was here, so they all wanted to show their support.”

“Did you call them all here?” Draco asked.

“No.” Harry said, kissing his head, “I told Hermione—Blaise came over just because and so I told him—then he called your Slytherin friends.”

“Shouldn’t the Weasel go away if everyone wants to make me feel better?”

Harry laughed, his cheek running along Draco’s. It was a bit scruffy, he had let it grow a bit since the hospital. It was only a few days worth of growth, “I think he has to stay.”

“Or we could stay in here and I could find out how that scruff feels between my legs.” Draco suggested.

Harry’s chuckle was deep as he squeezed Draco’s hip, “We can find that out later—but you don’t mind the scruff?”

“I like it. You look sexy.” Draco told him, sitting up on his elbow, “Don’t let that go to your head.” Even in the dark, Draco could see those piercing green eyes looking at him with a grin. Draco jumped when there was a loud knock on the door.

“Don’t start fucking—I’m starving!” Blaise called, “Or be quick about it.”

Draco smiled at Harry, “Sorry.”

“It would have been Ron if it wasn’t Blaise.” Harry said, slipping out of bed. Draco followed him.

“I’ll be out in a sec—just got to freshen up.”

“Don’t take too long.” Harry said kissing his lips.

“Don’t kiss me, I have bad breath.” Draco scrunched his nose.

“I don’t care.” Harry said, kissing him once more for good measure before walking away. Draco smiled. He put on clothes, cleaned his teeth and fixed his hair before coming back out.

“Finally he emerges from his cave.” Blaise teased him, handing him a glass of firewhiskey.

“Fuck off.” Draco replied, taking a sip.

“Did you tell your Mum to fuck off?” Blaise asked, Draco knew the entire room was watching them carefully. Harry was busy cooking—it smelled like some sort of meat and potatoes.

“My parents are coming to dinner here in two weeks.” Draco said, sitting down on the empty barstool. He looked to the Weasel, “You two are gone at the Cannons game—otherwise I would want Hermione out of the house.” Draco turned to Hermione, “Your Mum is fine?”

“Yeah.” Hermione said easily.

“What happened with her Mum?” Theo asked.

“Her mum was here when my mum got here. Mum didn’t know she was a muggle, but I still wanted her out of the house sooner rather than later.” Draco let out a breath.

Hermione squeezed his arm, “But she’s fine, nothing happened.” Draco cleared his throat a bit, nodding.

“You think having them over to dinner is a good idea?” Greg asked, he looked around nervously like he was waiting for Hermione to hex him.

“I have no idea—but what was I supposed to do? She _told_ me to come to dinner on Sunday—but I’m going to the Burrow. And then Harry offered dinner.”

“Better idea, then you get home field advantage.” Theo said.

“I can’t imagine Lucius Malfoy in this flat.” Weasley said.

“I don’t think they’ll come—they’ll find a reason to bail. My mother claimed they were moving back to England.” Theo snorted and Blaise shook his head.

Weasel looked confused, “Why is that—

“Lucius wants to use the people’s good will toward Draco to his advantage, launch another political career.” Theo explained, making Weasley scowl.

“I already told them they could fuck off with their political ambitions.” Draco said.

“I hate to be this person.” Pansy finally spoke up, Blaise scoffed his disbelief before she continued, “But you should be happy your parents want a relationship with you—don’t you _want_ to have access to your vaults again.”

“It’s not like I’m doing terribly.” Draco defended himself.

“But you could have _whatever_ you wanted.” Pansy said. Draco felt heat bloom in his chest, he didn’t look over at Harry but he didn’t need to. Draco had what he wanted, he didn’t need the designer robes. Sure, they would be nice, but he didn’t need to suck up to his parents to be happy.

“I have what I want Pansy, I don’t need access to their vaults.”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake Draco! Think like a Slytherin! You don’t need to marry Astoria, just _pretend_ to _consider_ it. Still date Harry and just have Astoria go on a few dates.”

“No.” Draco said instantly, and he watched Harry’s shoulder’s relax, “That’s just delaying an inevitable decision that I already know the answer too. I see no reason to drag this out. I am happy _now_ Pansy. They come back into my life on _my_ terms. They don’t have one thing I need.” Theo clasped his shoulder with a smile.

“Don’t you wish your parents were both in Azkaban before they could change the will?” He asked with a grin, “I just drive my father more mad with my stories of fucking men and spending all his money.”

“My mother wouldn’t dare speak out against me out of fear I will testify against her for murdering her husbands.” Blaise said with a smile, “You didn’t hear that Harry.”

“I’m off duty.” Harry said, starting to put out plates. Hermione had a look of concern, but that was neither here nor there.

“I’m going to run off.” Pansy said with a sniff.

“Pansy—” Draco started.

“No, the sentimentality in the room is starting to wrinkle my robes.” She said, glaring at Theo, Greg and Blaise, “I thought it was only Draco who was lost to this Gryffindor nonsense.”

“Having emotions isn’t a Gryffindor trait.” Blaise said calmly.

Pansy scrunched her nose, “Loyalty to family—

“Is something my parents should have thought about before they kicked me out.” Draco interrupted firmly, “This is my choice Pansy. Either support me on it, or shut up.”

“Fine.” She walked toward the floo, “But you’re making the wrong choice.” It was silent after she left.

“She’s been wrong before.” Harry said, which made Draco grin.

“You’re an arse.” Draco told him, but his smile didn’t fade.

“She isn’t here.” Harry defended himself, “Alright everyone—food is ready. We got flank steak, scalloped potatoes and a salad. Wine has been opened—and Draco likes this bottle for anyone feeling wary about my wine choices.” The floo went off, so everyone stopped to stare. George Weasley popped out, his face surprised.

“Oh—wanted to see Ron. Didn’t realize there was a party I wasn’t invited to.” George said.

“We’re having a pity party for Draco. You can only stay if you don’t act like an arse.” Blaise said.

George gave a wary look at Draco, “Can I stay?”

“If you want.” Draco acquiesced.

“Thank Merlin—I love scalloped potatoes.” George said, bounding to the table, “But I need a quick word with you Ron—business.”

“Can it wait till after dinner?” Ron was practically salivating over the food.

“Yes—you won’t concentrate otherwise.”

“No I won’t.” Ron confirmed.

“I don’t know how you ever get work done—you are constantly eating.” Hermione said with a huff.

“He’s a growing boy.” George taunted.

“That belly is going to grow.” Hermione told him, slapping his stomach playfully. Ron had filled out, but he wasn’t big by any stretch of the imagination so he laughed it off. There was commotion as people grabbed food. Harry had slipped to stand by Draco, his hand rubbing his thigh. Draco looked over to Harry who had a small smile on his lips.

“Not a bad end of the day, right?” Harry said softly. Draco pulled Harry closer, slipping his fingers beneath Harry’s t-shirt to feel the bit of skin in the small of his back.

“Not bad at all.” Draco said, leaning over to let Harry kiss him.

“No gushy stuff!” Blaise declared, throwing a dinner roll at Draco. Harry snagged it off the counter and bit into it with a laugh.

“What recipe did you use for the steak?” Draco asked Harry.

“The one I told you about—the one that’s better than yours.”

“Draco’s flank steak is delicious.” Greg declared, taking his plate over to the table. Hermione worked a bit of transfiguration so the table was big enough and Blaise conjured chairs.

Blaise hummed when he bit into his steak, “Not going to lie Draco, this is pretty good.”

“Thank you.” Harry said.

“Don’t let it go to your head.” Draco said with a scowl, trying his own. He tried to keep a straight face, but one look from Harry showed he hadn’t succeeded, “It’s not bad.” Harry laughed. Even though people were eating, it was still loud. People were talking with food in their mouths, passing food and wine along to other people and smiling. It was so different than any dinner party Draco’s parents ever threw, and so much more fun. Theo was telling stories of how Draco used to complain about Harry in school. He could have sworn he wasn’t so melodramatic. When he said as much, absolutely no one believed him.

“You should have seen how pissed he was when you guys changed the words to Weasley is Our King.” Blaise interjected.

Weasley smiled brightly, “Best day of my life.”

“Really Ronald? The best?” Hermione said, making everyone laugh.

“They rag on you a lot.” Harry told Draco with a smile.

“It may come as a shock to all of you, but Draco was a right cunt for a long time.” Theo said, winking at Draco, “We like to remind him.”

Draco tried to look dignified, “I was not.”

“Inquisitorial Squad.” George said, and everyone laughed.

“Weren’t you on that too?” Hermione looked to Greg.

“I don’t recall that.” He said primly and there was more laughter.

 

Draco laughed so often his face hurt from smiling by the end of dinner. His stomach ached from laughing. It was nearly midnight by the time everyone started going home.

“See you tomorrow Draco.” George said with a wink as he walked toward the floo.

“Can’t wait.” Draco said weakly.

“You’ll do fine.” George promised, “The gnomes only bite new comers.”

“Oh don’t listen to him, they don’t bite unless you try to move them.” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

“Bye Harry! Hermione. Ron.” George stepped into the flames.

“You’ll be fine tomorrow.” Hermione said assuredly, “You have me and Ron in there—looks like George won’t be mean to you either. And Bill and Fleur like you. So it’s really just Molly and Arthur.”

Draco frowned, turning to Harry, “I think I might be feeling ill.”

Harry laughed, kissing his head, “Let’s get you to bed then.”

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Burrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late is better than never... right? 
> 
> AND GUESS WHAT? I'm new to Tumblr. Please come say Hello. I don't have any friends, and I don't know what I'm doing. Caedes12.

Draco was trying very _very_ hard to remain calm. He ran his fingers through his hair, mindful that it fell in its proper place again.

“Draco.” Harry called to him, “You’re going to be fine.”

“No. They’re going to kill me and burry me on their hovel property and no one will ever know where I’ve gone.”

Harry grabbed both of his hands, “Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t let them murder you, I like your cock too much for that.”

“ _Harry._ ” He whined.

“Hermione has been recruited to protect you—and I think Bill will too.”

“You think?” Draco asked incredulous, “Why would he do that?”

“Because they’re good people. Now come on. We’re going. Showing up late is just going to show a sign of weakness.”

“Right.” Draco said, schooling his face.

“You’re already friendly with Bill, Fleur, George, Hermione _and_ Ron” Harry reminded him.

“That’s different. They weren’t all together.” Draco informed him as they were walking down the steps out of his flat.

“So just pretend they’re not all together now.” Harry said with a grin.

“Can I just stand outside and they talk to me one by one?” Draco asked.

Harry laughed, tugging him outside to apparate. He sighed, gripping Harry’s hand before feeling the familiar squeeze.

 

“Where are we?” Draco asked when they landed in the middle of a field.

“The Burrow is that way.” Harry pointed, Draco could vaguely see a misshapen building with smoke coming out the top.

“That’s it?” Draco asked.

“Draco.” Harry admonished, his tone unyielding.

“No—I’m not trying to be—Harry I’m sorry.” Draco fidgeted uncomfortably, “Please just—I won’t have anyone on my side in there.”

“What do you mean? I’m right here.” Harry said with a frown.

“No—you—look, you’ve chosen them since you were eleven.”

“Draco that was a refusal of a handshake—

“Just hear me out—please?”

“Fine.”

“You chose them when you were eleven. And they took you in and showed you how to be you. And I am grateful for that, truly I am. But they have given you so much, and you are very protective of them. I just feel like walking in there, I am walking in alone.”

“You have more friends in there than you give yourself credit for. Hermione, for one, and I think Ron. Percy will be your friend; only because he is friends with anyone he thinks can influence the ministry so don’t get too excited. Arthur is a good man; he wouldn’t say anything against you. The only two people you’ll have to worry about are Molly and Angelina—and maybe Ginny.” Draco ran his fingers through his hair, this speech wasn’t helping him at all. He thought he might throw up, “We can come back another time. You don’t have to do this.”

“I know.” Draco said, pinching his eyes shut. Warm arms pulled him close, and though Draco remained stiff for a few seconds, he eventually relaxed into his hold.

“This time I’m here for you—ok?”

“Ok.” Draco said, his voice choked on emotion. Harry entangled his fingers with Draco’s squeezing tight.

“Let’s go in.” Harry said, and Draco could only nod.

The two walked closer to the Burrow, his heart beating faster as they came up close. They were just about to knock on the door when it was pulled open, George was standing in the doorway.

“Mum wants us to de-gnome the garden.” George said.

“We just de-gnomed the garden two weeks ago.” Harry said.

“Apparently they keep breeding.” George said as the three walked into the house. Draco almost let out a breath when he realized the inside was a bit bigger than the outside. He had no idea how they were all supposed to fit in the same room.

As soon as they walked in, there was a loud screech of a chair as Angelina got up and stormed out of the room. Draco resisted the urge to grasp Harry’s hand, though he desperately wanted to.

“Harry, Draco, so glad you could make it.” Merlin bless Hermione. She stood up and walked over, elbowing Ron not so subtly. Ron stood up.

“Never thought you’d willingly walk in here, did you Draco?” George asked. When everyone in the room glared at him he shrugged, “What? Just trying to break the tension.”

“HARRY!” A little boy turned around the corner with his black hair and sprinted toward him. Draco reacted on instinct, taking a step behind Harry. Harry bent down and grasped the young boy tightly.

“Teddy!” Harry cried out.

“Why’s everyone staring?” Teddy whispered in his ear.

“Not everyone knows Draco—he’s my boyfriend.” Hearing Harry say it out loud made Draco blush.

“Like a boy who is a friend?” Teddy asked, his eyes looking to Draco. His eyes were the same color as Harry’s and as Draco was watching him they changed to grey—nearly the same color as Draco’s.

“No.” Harry said with a chuckle, “Like George’s Angelina.”

“Oh.” Teddy said, wiggling in his grip, “That’s silly. Gramma! Do you know Draco? He’s Harry’s boyfriend. But not like a friend who’s a boy—but like George’s Angelina.”

“I know Draco. Welcome to our home.” Mrs. Weasley stood far away. One look was all Draco needed to know she wasn’t happy. He was sure he saw smoke coming out of her nostrils, like a dragon poised to attack. Draco knew it wasn’t an accident Mr. Weasley was standing next to her, probably to keep her from attacking. She was mixing something viciously in a bowl; Draco was glad he was across the room.

“Thank you for having me.” Draco said as evenly as possible. The tension in the air was so high it was nearly buzzing. He was struggling to breathe.

“Who’s that?” A young girl pointed at him, her blonde hair nearly as white as his own.

“Victorie! This is Draco.” Teddy said, his constant movement made Harry lean over to put him down, “No! I don’t want to get down.”

“Then stop wiggling.” Harry reprimanded, standing back up and adjusting Teddy on his hip.

“Good luck with that. I don’t know if it’s possible for Teddy to stop moving.” A voice from the back of the room revealed a familiar face. Just as Draco’s heart started to race, he realized it wasn’t Bellatrix. Andromeda looked at Draco warily from the back of the room.

“This is Teddy—my godson. He is Remus Lupin and Tonk’s child.” Harry explained.

“Very nice to meet you Teddy.” Draco said, and Teddy smiled as he changed his hair to platinum blonde.

“How is your leg doing?” Hermione asked as she walked up.

“Good—still a bit stiff.” Draco knew they had already talked about this, but it seemed she was trying to get everyone to warm up to him. He could play that game.

“You hurt your leg?” Teddy asked.

“Yes—I went to court with Harry for an auror case. The bad guys attacked us.”

“I ‘member—I saw Harry in Mangos!”

“Mungo’s.” Harry corrected with a grin. Hermione’s laugh seemed to break the tension as all the sudden everyone was talking to one another, Draco let out a breath.

“It’ll get easier.” Hermione said, helping Harry put Teddy down. Draco nodded, “You both were in Witch Weakly.” Hermione said, Draco looked up at her in surprise as she shrugged, “Speculation about your relationship is all.”

“Everyone want a drink?” George asked.

“Not from you George—at least not this early.” Harry said with a shake of his head.

“Fine, I’ll save my experiment drink for later. You all aren’t getting out of it!” George announced, walking towards his girlfriend who was outside. Draco felt like he was living in the Manor all over again where he had to pay attention to what he was doing while simultaneously watching everything else in the room. He hadn’t realized how rusty he was at it until that moment. He wanted to relax and not care; but Mrs. Weasley was still glaring at him from across the room and _definitely_ muttering about him to Mr. Weasley. The group around him seemed determined to ignore it, so Draco followed suit.

“Last time I got so drunk I struggled to get to work on Monday.” Hermione said with a small whine.

“But we had so much _fun_ last time.” Ron argued with a sigh.

“What kind of drink was it?”

“He was making a drink to get drunk faster—you only had to take _one_ shot. It was horrible.” Harry said, “I couldn’t stand—I fell asleep on the couch.” Harry shook his head.

“Percy couldn’t stop throwing up.” Ron said with a grin.

“Mrs. Weasley banned that one.” Hermione told Draco.

“How are you Draco?” Ginny asked stiffly. Draco noticed she had been sent by Mrs. Weasley to assumedly scout out the situation and probably report back.

“Good—you have been playing well.” Draco said, she was a chaser for the Harpies. Draco had looked up a few of her stats before he came just in case.

Her eyes flashed in a way Draco didn’t like, “We’re having a good season.”

“Draco? Did you see the new case come in with mushrooms all over his hands?” Hermione asked. And just like that they got into a deep conversation about medical aid. They were arguing the finer points of it when Harry nudged him.

“We’re sitting down.” Harry said.

Harry led them over, putting Draco in a chair beside him. Bill sat next to Draco on the other side with Hermione and Ron across. It was like if they boxed him in it wouldn’t be as bad.

“Mr. Malfoy—welcome to our home.” Mr. Weasley said, making him jump.

“I prefer Draco if you don’t mind.” Draco said quietly.

“Yeah—plus it’s _Malfoy_.” George sneered, “If you want to sound like Harry.”

Hermione giggled, “Potter.” Her sneer was a bit better, but it still sounded awful. Harry laughed.

“You’re not supposed to find that funny.” Draco informed him as platters found their way to the table. The food smelled delicious. It was all he could do to keep from reaching out and grabbing the first thing that set down in front of him. Everyone sit down at the table—the entire Weasley family minus the one in dragon hide boots from the bar that Draco _did not find attractive_ —and their significant others, and then Andy and Teddy. Draco realized what an honor it was that he was invited, or that Harry was allowed to bring him. Harry had been so ingrained into this family that they didn’t know to single him out. Draco gripped Harry’s hand under the table, and Harry squeezed his back.

Arthur sat down at the head of the table, and it was so different than when Lucius did. At home, he wouldn’t have sat down until his father sat down. But here, everyone seemed so _comfortable_. No one was afraid they’d break a rule. An empty chair sat on the opposite side of the long table from Arthur.

“For those we’ve lost.” Harry explained softly.

“Because of people like you.” Angelina bit.

“Angelina, if you can’t sit and be kind, you can leave.” Arthur’s pronouncement shocked Draco.

“You want him to sit at this table?” Angelina asked, standing up, “He almost killed my best friend! He’s responsible for Bill!”

Draco felt his stomach drop and his heart jump into his throat. He wasn’t sure if he was going to throw up or not. He went to get up, but Harry held his hand tightly.

“Don’t leave.” Harry pleaded.

“Potter.” Draco said through grit teeth.

“Can’t you even call him by his first name?” Angelina asked.

“Usually only when he’s making me come.” Draco bit back crassly; he couldn’t help it. He wanted to make her as uncomfortable as she was making him. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he wanted to take them back. It was an instinctual reaction to turn to Mrs. Weasley, “I apologize for my language Mrs. Weasley.” It’s what he would have done if his mother was present, he couldn’t really help it. Mrs. Weasley was so red she looked like a tomato, but she looked shocked that Draco had spoken to her at all. It was silent as Draco turned back to Angelina; her face was appalled before she stormed out.

It was quiet for a minute.

“And here I thought I had heard enough of Harry’s love life.” Ron said.

“I’ll go talk to her.” George said, standing up and walking out. Draco stared at his plate as everyone quietly put things on their plate, Draco could hardly think about the food anymore.

“I need air.” Draco murmured to Harry.

“Want me to come with you?” Harry asked.

“No.” Draco said sternly.

“Through there.” Harry pointed to a doorway and Draco jumped up and slipped out the door.

 

As soon as he did, he nearly threw up. He took deep breaths and gripped onto the table. It took a minute for him to get a grip on his emotions. _Fuck_. He should leave. He should just _leave_. Draco looked up to see where he was—it seemed like a sort of workroom. There were parts all over the place. As Draco let himself calm down, he began going through the different bins. The workbench had all sorts of muggle items scattered over it, so Draco put the nails in one box, similar lengths screws in another. There were hangers on the wall for the hammers, despite them being spread all over the place—so Draco put them up on the wall from smallest to largest.

“Molly’s been asking me to clean up for ages.” Arthur’s voice made him jump.

“Sorry—I—I’m sorry. I organize when I’m stressed.” Draco pulled his hands back from the bench like it was covered in acid.

“Well, you are welcome to organize here anytime you’re stressed.” Arthur said kindly, his eyes twinkling in a smile, “I am sorry for Angelina’s behavior.”

“I’m sorry for my answer.” Draco said.

“We’ve all heard worse of Harry’s love life.” Arthur said, “Molly stopped getting Witch Weekly because of it.”

Draco nodded, trying to resist the urge to go back to organizing. When he looked over at the desk, he didn’t realize how much progress he had made.

“Come on back in.” Arthur said, “I know we’d all be happy you did.”

“All?” Draco asked with his eyebrow raised.

“Well—most of us. And the rest of us just want Harry to be happy.” Draco nodded. He took a deep breath, trying to stop his hands from shaking as he walked behind Arthur out into the dining area.

Draco consciously avoided eye contact with everyone as he sat back down next to Harry. As soon as he sat down, Harry’s hand found his hand, gripping it so tightly it hurt. The conversation around the table was a little forced, and Draco noticed Angelina had not come back though George was in his seat. Draco used his other hand to fill his plate up. He wasn’t used to eating with his left hand, but he figured he would make due. Harry wasn’t letting up his death grip on his right hand. Harry seemed almost subdued next to him, a bit too quiet. His grip was so tight it was like he was terrified if he let go Draco would disappear.

“Harry.” He whispered, sure everyone was wrapped up in conversations.

“Yeah?” Draco wiggled his fingers and Harry instantly went to let go, “Sorry!”

Draco took his hand back, “Just not as tight.”

“Ok.” Harry said, his voice shaky, “but—you have to eat.”

“I have two hands.” Draco replied with a careless shrug. He was trying to feel casual about the entire situation, though it was anything but. Hermione seemed to have a trained eye on them, but he chose not to look at her as he got back to his food. It was _delicious_. The house-elves at the Manor made good food, but there was something about this that was positively delicious. Draco scarfed up as much as he could handle. When he grabbed thirds of one dish, he might have seen a glint of approval in Molly’s eye—or that might have been the lighting. It took him longer to eat due to the fact that Potter had his right hand, but he didn’t mind.

“Anyone up for de-gnoming the garden?” George asked.

“You just are finally doing what I say to get out of clean up.” Mrs. Weasley said, exasperated.

“Meet you outside!” George said on his way out.

“Harry—would you go watch him to make sure he doesn’t do anything silly?” Mrs. Weasley asked. Harry nodded.

“I’ll help clean.” Draco was nearly as surprised as everyone else that it was _him_ who volunteered. But he liked cleaning—this was something he knew he was good at.

“Thanks dear.” Mrs. Weasley said.

It was tense as Mrs. Weasley, Bill and Draco started cleaning up the kitchen while the rest were outside de-gnoming the garden.

“What spell did you use?” Mrs. Weasley asked, staring at the clean water glasses.

“Uh—it’s one I learned from the book _I can Make Stone Glisten and Sparkle_ —is it alright?” Draco’s ears got a bit red at the mention of the book. He had picked it up in Diagon Alley when he first moved in with Hermione. He realized _very_ quickly how often Hogwarts and Manor house elves cleaned when he had to do it all himself. Dust built up so fast—finger prints. He wanted everything to sparkle, which is why the title stuck out to him.

“It works better than mine.” Mrs. Weasley said with a smile, and Draco relaxed slightly and showed her how to do it. He found her much more amiable after that. She was still somewhat like a sleeping dragon, he had _no_ desire to anger her—but he noticed the other Weasleys treated her the same way.

“How does your work with the goblins go Bill?” Draco asked Bill, who turned in surprise at being asked.

“It’s going well—goblins are not the easiest to work with, but we’re making small improvements. They’re invaluable, and they know it. Their reputation is still suffering from Harry’s successful theft.” Draco froze; he hated thinking about that day. There was so much blood—so many bodies. A warm hand grabbed his arm, and he looked up to Mrs. Weasley.

“You alright?” She asked, her face was concerned. He nodded stiffly.

“I was there—after.” Draco explained, looking up briefly before looking down and scrubbing the counter clean.

“Shit—I didn’t mean to—fuck.”

“Bill! I will not tolerate that sort of language!”

“Mum, I have my own child. I think your rules about language don’t apply anymore.”

“In my house they do!”

“Do you like working there?” Draco asked, trying to change the subject.

Bill turned back to Draco with a smile, but Draco only saw the look out of the corner of his eye as he moved to clean the table, “Yeah. It can be a pain, but the work is rewarding. Pays really well too—no one likes to work with goblins. I get Hermione’s help too every once and awhile. Do you like living with her?”

“Yes. We have lived together for almost four years. I’m a bit of crazy when it comes to organization, and Hermione is too. But she’s not much of a cook.”

“You cook?” Mrs. Weasley asked

“Yes. One of the things that Harry and I like to talk about. Jean—Mrs. Granger taught me to cook. I’m glad I learned because Hermione certainly wasn’t going to—it’s kept us from starving.” He said with a grin as he finished cleaning the table, and Molly waved her wand so it retracted in on itself to make more room. Draco looked out the window to see a bunch of people hunched around the center of the yard.

“Oh for heavens sake, Arthur is trying to light the fire pit again.” Mrs. Weasley said with a sigh.

“Can’t he just wave his wand?” Draco asked.

“He’s reading a camping muggle book—he’s trying to use a match.” Mrs. Weasley sounded exasperated.

“Last time I managed to use the spell without him noticing—hopefully now Hermione’s helping him so he’ll manage to light the fire.” Bill said, “She went camping a lot when she was younger.” There was a bunch of cheering, “Ah, they must have been successful.”

“Do you need any more help Mrs. Weasley?”

“No Draco, everything is cleaned up. You can go ahead out.” She encouraged, “Tell the kids I’ll send out the punch.”

“Thanks Mum!” Bill said as the two walked outside, “Mum’s punch is lethal. Drink small doses. First time Harry drank it he confessed he was bisexual—but I think George might have spiked it with truth rum too.”

“I’ve heard about the infamous Truth Rum.” Draco said.

“Talking about Truth Rum?” Ron asked as they walked up.

“Mum’s sending out her punch, I was advising Draco to sip it slowly.” Bill said, sitting on a bench next to his wife. Harry was sitting on a blanket by the fire, so Draco quickly moved to sit down next to him. He wove his fingers into Harry’s the moment he sat down.

“How’d clean up go?”

“Well.” Draco said.

“He taught Mum a new cleaning spell—I was certain she had every one ever invented memorized.” Bill said, holding Fleur’s hand.

“Well that got you on Mum’s good side for a good three weeks.” George said, there was a twig in the hole his ear should have covered. The punch came floating out in cups. Harry grabbed one out of the air, and then he grabbed one for Draco.

“Cheers!” Arthur said, holding up his cup.

“Who wants some mores?” Mrs. Weasley came out with a tray full of different things—it looked like graham crackers, chocolate and marshmallows.

“What is that?”

“Some-mores.” Harry said it quickly, so Draco narrowed his eyes, “s apostrophe m-o-r-e-s.”

“S’mores.” The word sounded foreign on his tongue.

“It’s graham cracker on either side with a piece of chocolate and marshmallow in the middle.” Harry explained.

“Sounds sticky.”

“I’m sure you know a charm for that.” Harry said flatly, making Draco smile.

“Harry! Can I make you one?” Teddy asked.

“You can make one for Draco—he’s never had one.”

“Never HAD A S’MORE?” Teddy yelled.

“Teddy, we’re all right here mate.” George said.

“Sorry Uncle George.” Teddy said with a grin, turning his hair orange and one ear went missing, “Woah! I did it!” Teddy said.

“Woohoo!” George shouted, “You look brilliant!” Teddy giggled before regrowing his ear.

Draco did sip the punch slowly, but he could feel it warming up all his extremities. It was a lazy sort of tipsy that warmed him up. When Draco got sick of holding himself up, he adjusted to leaning up against a bench. A few charms made it stay in place, and a bit softer. The chatter was quick and moved back and forth at a pace that was foreign to Draco. But mostly he liked watching the dynamics of the family. It was so vastly different than anything he had ever experienced and yet so very much the same. He saw the fierce need to protect as much as he saw the need to poke fun. And Harry was just as involved as anyone else—and significant others. That was a bit odd for Draco. Pureblood families tended to treat the ones that married in, even if they were pureblood, like outsiders. Grandfather had called Narcissa a Black until the day he died. But Fleur seemed to hold her own as much as anyone else. It was a bit later that Teddy and Victorie went inside to be put to bed by their grandparents. Percy and his girlfriend went home which made the mood a bit cozier.

Harry got up as the group chatted on about different things. They were swapping stories about growing up. Draco had no idea what it was like to grow up with siblings. It was clear Ginny had gotten beaten up on until she could hold her own—and then a healthy fear of Ginny started. Draco adjusted as Harry sit back down right in front of him. Draco opened his legs so Harry could sit between them, and he lay back on his chest.

“I guess that answers the question of whether Harry top’s or bottom’s.” George said, and Harry held up two fingers before taking a huge gulp of his drink.

“So what alcohol are we trying out tonight George.”

He pulled out a small bottle with a grin, “We can dump it into the punch—it will reveal all your sexy secrets.”

“Sexy secrets?” Ginny asked with an eyebrow raised.

“Well, everyone gets drunk and talks about their sex lives—this just encourages _truth_ telling with your sex life.” George dropped it in the punch.

“Great. Now I’ll find out more about your lives that I didn’t want to know.” Ginny said with a sigh, adding just a little bit of the spiked punch to everyone’s glass. There was a small silence as everyone took a sip. Draco hesitated before he did, but he wouldn’t be the only one chickening out.

“This will break couples up.” Bill said with a laugh.

“Not us—we ‘ave great sex.” Fleur covered her hand with her mouth, staring at her cup accusingly, “I did not think it would work zis fast.” Her accent had definitely gotten stronger with the alcohol.

“Angelina and I have fucking horrible sex.” George’s eyes got large, “Fuck.”

“Good thing she isn’t here.” Ron said.

George frowned, “And you and Hermione don’t go through your bad bouts?”

Hermione smiled, “We have great sex—I mean, we have our awkward moments, but we just laugh through them and move on.”

“Hermione likes to research too—so she comes up with great stuff.” Ron added, frowning at his cup as Hermione’s face turned a bit pink.

“So a lot of teacher student roll play?” George asked with a laugh, from the way their faces both turned bright red Draco didn’t think George was wrong.

“Bill and I don’t go through ‘bad bouts’ eizer George.” Fleur came to Hermione’s rescue; “We go through timez where we ‘ave lots of sex and zen not so much, but phyzical love iz an extremely important part of our relationship.”

“Well, we might have just broke up anyway—so it won’t matter.” George said, throwing back his drink.

“I say good riddance.” Ginny said, “Got to find someone who is a fantastic fuck.”

“Whose the best you’ve had Ginny?” Fleur asked.

“No one—my sister doesn’t sex.” Ron said. Ginny snorted.

“I don’t know if I want to hear the answer.” Draco said flatly, taking a large gulp of his drink.

“The Boy Who Lived to Fuck.” George said with a wink, “What about you two?” George asked, looking at Draco and Harry with raised eyes.

“Oh come on—I’m always in the spotlight.” Harry said, squirming in his lap.

“Not recently.” Ron argued.

Harry protested, “Let’s hear more about Bill and Fleur.”

“We have a young kid—we have fast sex when she finally goes down to sleep. It’s not interesting.” Bill said with a shrug.

“Fast _great_ sex so we can sleep until the little princess wakes us.” Fleur said with a grin, kissing Bill’s scarred cheek.

“What do you like about having sex with Draco, Harry?” Hermione asked, knowing the spiked alcohol George made would have more effect with a direct question. Harry instantly covered his mouth with his hand, making Draco chuckle. But Draco was curious what the answer would be. When Harry garbled the answer in his hand, it was unintelligible.

“Hold him down!” George yelled, grabbing his arm right before Hermione grabbed the other one.

“Traitors!” Harry yelled, Draco stayed out of it.

“Tell us Harry.” George encouraged.

Harry bit his lip to try to keep back the answer but it burst through his lips “He’s the biggest I’ve ever slept with.” Harry said, turning bright red. Draco was suddenly very grateful Harry was sitting in front of him because everyone was looking toward his crotch.

“The average penis is around fourteen centimeters when erect, depending on the country.”

“Do you know _everything_?” Fleur asked, making Hermione blush.

“I want to know what book she’s reading with this information in it.” George grinned lecherously.

“I want to know more about his penis size.” Fleur said, looking curiously at Draco.

“I’m not dropping my drawers for all your curiosity.” Draco said, taking a large sip of his drink, he knew his own cheeks were red from the heat coming off of them.

“How big is it?” Fleur asked, leave it to the French woman to ask.

“I’ve never measured.”

“Never? Not one adolescent tape measuring?” George asked incredulous.

“Didn’t need to—I knew I was—uh—above average.”

“Well, I heard it isn’t about the size—it’s how you use it.” George said with a grin, making everyone laugh. Draco scowled, not liking what he was insinuating. He frowned, but stopped scowling when Harry pat his leg affectionately.

“Is he as big as Neville?” Ginny asked.

“No one is as big as Neville.” Harry said.

“Blaise might be. I have to devise a plan to have them both drop their drawers in my presence so I can figure out who’s bigger.” Draco said.

“I’m glad to see you use your Slytherin wiles to answer the big questions.” George said with a laugh.

Then they got into a huge discussion about role-play, which Draco just listened to. He wasn’t too interested, but he liked hearing Harry give his opinion. The pleasant buzz from the alcohol warmed him, but he was sure he would be cold without Harry’s body heat. Harry’s hand hadn’t moved from his leg, his thumb moving in small circles. Draco didn’t think Harry realized he as doing it.

“I couldn’t take it seriously.” Fleur said with a shrug, “I zink it vould make me laugh.”

“So I guess no role playing a captured Gringotts thief.” George said with a laugh.

“That wouldn’t be role playing—I’d be myself.” Bill said, laughing with George.

“Have you caught anyone trying to steal?” Draco asked.

“Loads—like I said before—all cause Harry, Hermione and Ron were successful. So people think it’s easier—it’s not.”

“We took a dragon to escape—what sounds easy about that?” Harry asked, he had sat up for a bit as he got into the conversation, gesturing more with his hands. But he seemed to be content to sit back for this one as he settled back and rest his head against Draco’s chest.

“People are stupid.” Bill said, and Draco snorted his agreement.

 

Draco ended up being very glad he came, despite everything. When they left that evening, they slowly made their way out of bounds so they could apparate.

“Draco?” Harry asked.

“Hm.” He was holding Harry’s hand as they walked—a novelty he didn’t want to give up.

“Thank you for doing this—and thank you for staying.”

Draco smiled, “You’re welcome.” He thought about giving a sarcastic answer, but Harry’s tone was too sincere for that.

“I can reward you when we’re back at your flat.” Harry said with a leer.

“I accept all rewards.” Draco said, leaning down to kiss Harry’s lips before they apparated home.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smutty smut smutness

Draco was very glad spring was on the horizon. He was sick of being freezing all the time. He had been cleaning like mad since his mother _confirmed_ they would be having dinner at the flat and it was nice to open the doors to air it out. It was a bit too chilly, but the crisp air was better than nothing. Draco heard Harry’s awful motorbike before he saw him. And as soon as he walked through the door, Draco’s eyes got large.

“Stop!” He cried out, “You stop right there. You are _covered_ in sawdust!” Draco waved his wand, cleaning it all up.

“You haven’t been cleaning too much have you? I wanted to help.”

“You’d only get in my way.” Draco argued.

“I was banished to my room.” Hermione said, peaking her head out.

“You can come out now.” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

“You rearranged everything—you only get four more times now!” Hermione said, walking around the kitchen.

“I know!” Draco snapped.

“What?” Harry asked, hanging up his cloak.

“If I let him, Draco would rearrange the kitchen every five weeks. I give him five times a year he is allowed to reorganize.” Hermione said, grabbing a water glass.

“Place looks brilliant.” Harry complimented.

“Yes—I know it does. Now tell me why you are covered in sawdust.”

“Yes Harry—tell him.” Hermione said, a smile on her lips.

Harry sighed, “I’m renovating Grimmauld Place.”

“The old Black house?” Draco asked, confused.

“It was my Godfather’s—he gave it to me.”

“He has been renovating it for _years_.” Hermione said, “Won’t let any of us see it.”

Harry blushed, “It’s been a work and progress. I’ve had more than one disaster. Kreacher was furious.”

“You’re renovating it by yourself?” Draco asked.

Harry nodded enthusiastically, “One of my pet projects. I have more time now that Robards doesn’t have me traipsing the globe at every moment. Had to learn a lot about wood carving the wizard way—making walls and stuff. It’s been fun.”

“Plumbing?” Draco asked.

“That was one of the disasters. Water damage isn’t easy to clean.” Harry turned pink, “But I figured it out.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “He won’t let anyone see it.”

“I’d like everyone to see the finished product.” Harry argued.

“I had no idea you were such a handy man.” Draco said, waggling his brows.

“One joke about plumbing and I am leaving.” Harry said, making Draco laugh.

“I’ve got to go—off to see the Cannons with Ron.” Hermione said, kissing Harry’s cheek and then Draco’s, “Have fun you two.” She disappeared into the fireplace.

“I have something I want to talk to you about.” Harry said.

“Sounds ominous.” Draco said.

“The five year anniversary of the end of the Wizarding War is coming up—I’d like you to come with me to the ball.” Harry blurted out all at once.

Draco took a step back, “You sure it’s a good idea to bring a former Death Eater?”

“You’re my boyfriend. I’m not taking anyone else.” Harry said soundly. Draco smiled fleetingly. His boyfriend was brave but stupid, and in this instance Draco was grateful for it.

“Oh alright. But we’ll have to look nice.”

Harry’s smile made Draco’s insides melt. He tried not to show it as he wiped the edge of the counter top.

“My parents are coming over tomorrow for dinner.” Draco said.

“I know.” Harry confirmed.

“Are you on duty tonight? Because it would be nice for you to get blown up or something so we don’t have to do dinner.” Draco said.

Harry laughed pulling Draco close, “I don’t have auror duty tonight. I’m all yours.”

“Well then—” Draco grinned, placing a chaste kiss on his lips, “I think we should go to the bedroom. I have something I want to try.” Harry raised an eyebrow, “Trust me.”

“Ok.” Harry said, his eyes alight. Draco tugged on his hand, pulling him back towards his bedroom. Draco closed the door, silencing the room in case Hermione came back for some reason.

“Strip to your pants and sit there until I tell you to.” Draco instructed. Harry’s green eyes sparkled as he nodded, pulling off his shirt. Draco loved watching Harry’s shoulder muscles—they were so strong and carved so nicely. He shook his head, not wanting to get distracted. He pulled down the covers of the bed and then pulled out his box of toys. Some of the toys were the ones Harry and Draco bought together. They had used some of them, but Draco had a few more in mind for today. Draco carefully laid each toy out on the settee, but didn’t let Harry see them. And he knew the man was trying to sneak a peak. The toy Draco made obvious were the cuffs.

Draco moved around his bed back to the chair Harry was sitting in. His cock was half hard in his blue boxers and his hands were gripping the arms of the chair tightly.

“I would like to cuff you to my bed and not let you come until I say so.” Draco said, kneeling in front of him and rubbing his bare thighs.

Harry nodded enthusiastically, “I like that plan.”

“Then get in the middle of the bed, face up.” Harry slipped eagerly around Draco and crawled into the bed. He flopped over on his back and put his hands above his head. Draco hitched the cuffs to the bed and then to Harry’s wrists. They were made of supple leather, padding on the inside.

“Can you get out of them?” Draco asked. Harry pulled on them both but they didn’t budge, then they magically opened. Draco scowled, “Prat.” Though he did like Harry’s ability for wandless magic. He locked Harry back up again, staring down at him. He slowly began to unbutton his shirt, “I’d like it better if you told me to uncuff you instead of magically doing it.”

“You think I will?”

“I’d rather you talk to me.” Draco said honestly, pushing off his shirt. He went to the closet and hung it up.

“I’ll tell you if I’m uncomfortable. I promise.” Harry said. He looked so fucking eager staring up at him, his cock fully hard beneath his boxers. Draco smiled at him, taking off his shoes and socks. Harry was watching his every movement as he unbuckled his belt and then opened his slacks. Draco walked back into the closet and put everything away before coming back out.

“Any day now.” Harry said.

“Eager?”

“Fuck yes.” Harry groaned.

Draco elegantly jumped onto the bed, straddling Harry. He leaned down and kissed him chastely before moving down his neck. He licked the small scar that was still there from Harry’s injury before moving lower. Harry hummed as Draco kissed down his chest.

Draco loved how Harry was harry. He wasn’t ridiculously harry, just more than Draco. His lips tickled over the thatch of hair on Harry’s chest. Draco took his right nipple into his mouth and sucked. Harry’s breathing got a bit faster. Draco took his time around his tattoo.

“I really do love your tattoos Harry.” Draco said, his voice already a bit deep, “I like seeing them through your t-shirts.” He looked up at Harry who was grinning. Draco made his way down Harry’s stomach. His constant training with the aurors gave him an _excellent_ physique. Draco loved the chiseled abs and the muscular cut of his torso. Draco stopped at Harry’s boxers, kissing right along the edge. It was impossible not to notice Harry’s hard on, but he didn’t touch it.

“Draco.” Harry groaned, “Take off my pants.”

“How do you ask?” Draco asked

“ _Please_.” Harry said, without an ounce of sarcasm. Draco put his mouth over Harry’s clothed cock and it twitched in appreciation.

“I’m not sure you deserve it so soon.”

“Please. I’ll be good—I promise.” Harry said eagerly. Draco looked up at him with a wry grin.

“Do you know how to be good?”

“I’m the Golden boy—of course I do.” Harry quipped back with a grin. Draco bit playfully at Harry’s inner thigh.

“You wouldn’t know good if it bit you.”

Harry laughed, but Draco hitched his fingers and pulled down Harry’s pants. He pulled up his legs so they could come off. Draco got off the bed.

“You’re not going to hang up my pants are you?” Harry asked.

Draco snorted, “No.” He put Harry’s pants on the settee and walked over to his speakers to press play. Classical music came on, “I like something on in the background so it’s not silent.” Draco confessed before crawling back into bed. Harry’s cock was jutting up to his stomach. So eager, but he had no idea what was in store for him.

Draco licked the underside of Harry’s shaft and heard the clink of the cuffs pulling against the headboard. He kissed Harry’s inner thigh, kissed his head.

“Fuck’s sake.” Harry groaned. Draco took Harry down to the root, his nose pressing against Harry’s short curls. His hands held Harry’s hips in place. Having done this to Harry more than a few times, he was familiar with what he liked and what brought him to the edge the fastest. Draco’s mouth made sloppy sounds as he sucked Harry hard, keeping him deep in his throat. He drove him at a fast pace before pulling away. Harry hissed as his cock fell back on his stomach, an angry red color.

Draco reached behind him on the settee and grabbed the first toy. It was a simple black cock ring. They had used it before, but he showed it to Harry before slipping it down onto the base of his cock. He was slick from Draco’s spit, so it slid into place with Draco’s help.

Then Draco took Harry in his mouth again. This time with his fingers gently rolling his balls, Draco rolled his tongue a bit. Harry yanked on the cuffs again, a light gasp escaping his lips. He got Harry as close as he dared before pulling away, continuing to fondle his balls a bit. Draco looked at Harry’s face, his brow was furrowed and his eyes pinched shut.

Letting him come down a bit, Draco kissed up his stomach, taking his time. There were several scars he wasn’t _as_ familiar with so he took made sure to kiss each inch of them. He kissed across Harry’s collarbone and then up his throat. Harry tipped his head back, letting out a small gasp as Draco nibbled on is Adam’s apple.

“Told you I can be good.” Harry said, his voice sounding a bit off. But Draco wanted him to sound _wrecked_. Harry was still too in control.

“We’ve just gotten started.” Draco said into his ear. Draco felt Harry’s breathing quicken, “Let’s see if your good behavior lasts.” He bit his collarbone and then kissed the bite wound. Draco sat back up and pulled off his own pants, tossing them to the side.

As soon as Draco touched Harry’s cock, his muscles tensed. He loved watching his hips twitch as he got Harry closer to the edge. He used long and slow strokes to get Harry closer. He watched Harry’s eyes flash so Draco let go. Harry let out a harsh breath, tilting his head back. Draco decided to enact stage two of his plan.

“I’m going move your cuffs to behind your back so you’re upright.” Draco told him, his fingers lightly running over his inner thighs. Harry nodded, so Draco crawled off of him so he could push his legs up. Draco moved around the bed to unlatch them from their corners. It took a wand, but he managed to fasten the cuffs behind Harry’s back.

Harry was sitting in the center of the bed with his hands behind his back, his cock standing up tall. Draco’s mouth was watering.

“You look beautiful.” Draco groaned and Harry blushed. Draco crawled back into bed, grabbing another toy of the settee, “Now this—this I want you to watch.” Harry’s eyes lit up immediately.

Draco tipped back, exposing—well— _everything_ to Potter. He tried not to think about it too much.

“Closer.” Harry’s voice was harsh, but still not where Draco wanted him to be. Draco moved closer to him, throwing his legs over top of Harry’s sprawled out ones. Draco used the vibrator to loosen himself up. A little bit of lube, and the vibrator slipped inside. It was tapered to help ease into it, which Draco appreciated. The low buzzing could be heard over the music as Draco pushed it inside himself. Draco heard Harry pull on the chains.

Draco was tipped back, looking up at the ceiling with one hand between his legs. He used slow and steady motions to work himself open, as if he had all the time in the world.

“ _Draco._ ” Harry groaned. Draco was teasing himself, one hand on his cock. He had gotten the vibrator in far enough that it pressed on his prostrate and _Merlin_ it felt good. His legs shook as he worked himself, his cock spilling precum on his stomach. Just as his toes started to curl, he pulled the vibrator out, tossing it to the side.

Draco moved up and kissed Harry. _Fuck_ he loved getting kissed by this man. Despite his hands behind his back, Harry kissed like he would never let go. Draco straddled his lap, rubbing their cocks together as he held him close.

“I want to try something.” Draco said into the kiss, “If it doesn’t work—you’ll have an orgasm.”

“If it does?” Harry asked, looking confused.

“You’ll have something else.” Draco said with a grin, sitting back on Harry’s knees.

“Ok.” Harry said.

Draco grabbed the lube and poured a bit in his hand. Looking at Harry’s cock, he concentrated. He grabbed Harry’s cock and started a slow and steady pace. Harry’s head tipped back, his breathing harsh.

“I’m close.” Harry whispered. But Draco knew he could get closer. He pumped him once, then twice, and then let go. Harry let out a harsh breath, it blew some of the hair out of Draco’s face. His chest heaved up and down a bit. Draco stared at Harry’s cock but nothing had happened. He waited a few seconds, then grasped Harry’s cock again. He worked him even closer, the slick sound of the lube making Draco’s body tingle.

“Ah!” Harry cried, his hips twitching. One more pump and Draco let go, staring at Harry’s cock, “Fucking hell.” Harry groaned, his head falling back and hitting the headboard. When nothing happened, Draco grabbed more lube. He used only a little bit more.

Harry’s breathing got a bit more even, Draco started again. He twisted his hand a bit, squeezing just like Harry liked. Harry’s breathing got faster, Draco moved his hand faster. Harry bit his lip, his chest heaving as he got closer to the edge. His hip twitched a bit, but Draco kept going.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but he shook his head. His head fell back, “St—Oh _fuck_.” He gasped, the sound of the cuffs pulling tight on the headboard. Draco did two more pulls before pulling his hand away. Harry was still breathing fast, his cock standing erect. Then, a little burst of precum dribbled out of the top. Harry pushed his leg up against Draco, his head falling back.

“ _Merlin_.” He groaned, “What the fuck was that?” He was heaving, looking down at his cock, “I’m—I’m still hard.”

“It was a ruined orgasm.” Draco said.

“Fucking hell.” Harry let his head fall back. Draco let his fingers go up Harry’s sides, playing a bit with his nipples. Light touches seemed to slow Harry’s breathing, bringing him back to himself, "It was sort of like coming without all the fun." 

“You look so beautiful.” Draco murmured, it was true. Harry had turned a bit red from the experience, sweating just enough to look sexy.

“Do it again.” Harry said, “ _Please_.”

“You sure? It’s your first time—I was just going to do it once.” Draco said.

Harry shook his head, “Again—please.” He whispered it.

"Reckless Gryffindor. Have to try everything twice before you decide if you like it or not?" Draco teased.

"Something like that. I like watching you work my cock too." Harry said with a wink. Draco couldn't help but press another kiss to his lips, enjoying the salty sweaty taste. One more pressed kiss and Draco settled back a bit, taking a bit more lube.

As soon as Draco touched Harry’s cock, Harry grunted, wincing a bit. It was clear his head was overly sensitive. Draco worked him even more slowly than last time because now Harry knew what to expect. Harry’s cock was even harder than before, the head an angry red color. The lube was a gathering in Draco’s hand a bit, but he didn’t mind as he stroked Harry.

Harry put his head back against the headboard as Draco got him closer. His Adam’s apple bobbed and his breathing increased. It was a bit more difficult to get Harry closer to the edge this time. Draco increased the speed of his hand, flicking his thumb. Harry was nibbling on his lip, his back arched a bit but he immediately corrected it. When his mouth opened, Draco pulled away. Harry let out a few harsh breaths, but his cock bobbed.

Draco wrapped his hand around Harry’s cock again, and Harry moaned loudly. His hips flexed into the first stroke but stilled themselves after. Draco moved him quickly to the edge, fondling his balls a bit. Harry closed his eyes and Draco watched his facial expression for the tiniest movement. His eyes scrunched up a bit as Draco got closer.

Harry shook his head, pressing his eyes tightly shut. Draco stroked him down, pulling up. Down again, the lube made a slurping sound as he went back down. Then he pulled up again and let go of Harry’s cock. It bobbed in the air for a moment before cum oozed out of the slit.

Harry made a choked sobbing sound, “Fucking _merlin_.” He gasped. Draco let his hands wander over Harry again, pulling him back. He lightly raked his fingers down his thighs. Harry’s cock was a deep purple color, and Draco had never seen him look so hard. Draco stroked his thighs, listening. His breathing evened out again, Harry looked to Draco.

“Want to fuck me?” Draco asked.

“ _Fuck_ yes.” Harry growled, “Let me out of these fucking cuffs. _Please_ Draco.” Now that was more like it. He sounded out of control- completely debauched. Draco grabbed his wand and flicked the cuffs open and Harry pounced.

The man was an animal, his grip so tight it hurt. Draco was pushed back on his back and Harry shoved his cock in him without any preamble. It burned, but Draco barely had time to feel it as Harry fucked him. There were _definitely_ going to be bruises on his hips. Harry was relentless. The pace was making Draco’s whole body tingle—he wanted to feel _wrecked._

Harry pushed Draco’s legs outward, collapsing in the middle of them as his hips continued to drive into Draco. The added friction of Harry’s chest on Draco’s cock was _just_ what he _needed_. Harry wrapped his arms beneath Draco, pulling him close as he kissed him. But his hips didn’t waver for a second. They were hard and brutal thrusts that brushed Draco’s prostrate in the cruelest way.

“I—I need—I need _fucking hell_.” Harry sounded completely incoherent.

“What do you need?” Draco asked.

“God I need your _arse_. I just want to cum—Jesus _Christ_. Squeeze me—I don’t know if I can come like this.” Harry flipped Draco over, pushing him into the mattress as he fucked him. Harry made a choked sobbing sound, grinding into Draco’s hole. Draco’s own orgasm was quickly approaching, so he snuck a hand back to wank himself.

“W-wait don’t.” Harry swatted his hand away, “Not there yet.” He continued to thrust furiously, his fingers biting into his skin. Draco didn’t know how long he lay there and got fucked. Harry didn’t stop. Each thrust was just as brutal as the last. He felt like he was on a knife’s edge as Harry’s brutal pace kept him just on the brink of pleasure.

Draco couldn’t think of anything else except Harry’s cock sliding in and out of him, his fingers pressed into his hips.

Harry flipped him over again. He grabbed a pillow and put it under Draco’s hips. When he sunk back into Draco, he sobbed with his head down. His breathing got faster. Draco locked his feet behind Harry's hips because he wasn't going to let Harry flip him again. He was too close, he wanted to come. 

“ _Merlin_. Oh god I’m getting close. Wank yourself off Draco—I-I can’t. Fucking hell.” Harry’s glasses were crooked on his nose, but his eyes were blown wide. His hands squeezed his shoulders even tighter, “I—I” He moaned, “Oh Jesus fucking _Christ_.” He continued to thrust and Draco grasped himself. He was only a few strokes away, but he wanted to wait for Harry. Harry’s mouth was open, “Oh. God. _Oh God_. I’m— _fuck_!” He started to come, babbling even more as he did. Draco came to the sound of Harry losing his shit, splattering all over his stomach. Harry was still moaning, his hips pushing in and out of Draco. Harry collapsed on top of him.

Draco reached out his hand and grabbed a wand on the bedside table. He did the cleaning charm, letting the wand drop as he collapsed again.

“I didn’t know you could fuck like that.” Draco said, his voice hoarse.

“I didn’t know I could fuck like that.” Harry grabbed the wand, waving it a bit and he heaved a sigh of relief, “Fucking cock ring.”

“Sorry—I forgot you had it on.”

“I fucking didn’t.” Harry grumbled, sitting up a bit to look down at Draco, “There’s no possible way I can make dinner after that.”

Draco snorted, “Take away it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm new to Tumblr! Caedes12 Please come say HELLO. I barely know what I'm doing.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has some parent drama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS! WARNINGS! WARNINGS!
> 
> In this chapter, Draco tells a story about trying to commit suicide. It is NOT the one already talked about. It is not overly graphic, but there are still descriptors.

Draco was shaking with nervous energy. He wasn’t quite sure what to do. Rearranging the kitchen seemed a bit pointless—plus it was good to know where everything was to prepare it. He had been up at six, walking around. Harry was asleep, so he tried not to disturb him.

“Draco.” Harry grumbled when he sat back down in bed.

“Hm?”

“Come here.” Harry opened up his arms.

“I—sorry.” He said as he curled up under Harry’s arm.

“I know you’re nervous—but we’re going to be fine.” Harry told him, curling around Draco, “It’s almost seven—let’s get a few hours of sleep. Your parents won’t arrive until five.” Draco nodded, “Would blowing you help you?”

“No.” Draco said, “Too nervous. Couldn’t concentrate.”

Harry looked over Draco’s shoulder with a raised brow, “Are you turning down a blow job?”

“I haven’t seen my parents in four years and they’ll be here for dinner tonight.” Draco said.

“Sounds like you need a blow job.”

Draco guessed Harry was right after a spectacular fucking blowjob. He woke up again a little after nine, but this time there was no going back to sleep. Harry went between trying to distract him and then letting him do his own thing. The closer dinner came, the more rambunctious he got. He thought he was going to come out of his skin.

“We can walk away. We don’t have to do this.” Harry said calmly, rubbing Draco’s back.

“They know where I live.”

“Then we’ll run away together.” Harry said, a smile on his lips.

“Where will we run away to?” Draco asked.

“Greece?” Harry asked, and Draco managed a reluctant grin, “I’d love to see you in a swim suit.”

“I have a blue one you’d enjoy.” Draco said, looking up at him.

“We could go to a nude beach—I think I’d like that best.”

Draco smiled, “I’d like that best too.”

“Shall we then—to Greece? Or the South of France.”

“I do love France—I’m fluent.”

“I did not know that.” Harry said, backing up to look at him, “Any other languages?”

“Italian—I could get by in Spanish.” Draco scrunched his nose, “Maybe. My Spanish is a little dicey.”

“Maybe we should run away to Italy—you do prefer red wines.”

“I do. And Tuscany is lovely this time of year.” Harry grinned, weaving his fingers through the hair at the nape of Draco’s neck, “One of those big Tuscan villa’s—we could sit out on the patio and drink until we pass out. That sounds so much better than our evening.”

“It does.” Harry said with a chuckle, “But what would we do with all the food here?” Draco and Harry had practiced preparing food for a few days. They had done an official practice round four days ago to get all the timing right—Ron and Hermione had benefited from their expertise. Ron had declared that if he could choose his last meal—that would be it—so Draco took it as a success. Not that the Weasel had any sense of taste, but he enjoyed the compliment. Harry was in charge of the meat and some sides—Draco was in charge of the dessert and the rest of the sides. Draco had bought a case of wine so they wouldn’t run out. Which was aggressive, but he figured he would need the rest of the wine for when his parents left.

A knock on the door broke his musings and his breathing sped up. Harry squeezed his hand, but they both walked to the door. Draco slid open the dead bolt and opened it to see both parents.

“Good evening.” Draco said.

“Good evening.” His father said sternly.

“Please, come on in.” Draco said. Harry backed away so they could all walk past him as he shut the door behind them.

“I see you’ve managed to attain this—abode.” His father looked around.

“Yeah—we’ve rented it for three and a half years now.” Draco said.

“So you do not _own_ this place?”

“No.” Draco said with a sigh. This was not going to go well. A warm hand pressed against his back, thank Merlin Harry was with him.

“And you live here with that girl and him?” His father asked pointing to Harry.

“No—Harry lives a few blocks away. I asked him to be here tonight.” Draco said, letting out a slow breath.

Harry poured the wine from the aerator into four different glasses, floating one to his mum and father. His mother took a sip and seemed to relax, clearly liking the wine. His father took his own sip, but his facial expression was neutral.

“Feel free to eat the appetizers.” Draco said, pointing to the various cheese, meats and crackers set out. They had been painstakingly laid out by himself—making sure everything was ascetically pleasing.

“You have a house elf?” His father asked, grabbing a cheese and a cracker.

“N-no.” Draco answered, sipping on his wine.

“Then who is cooking for us?”

“Harry and I are.” Draco answered.

“You can cook?” His father asked, sounding doubtful.

“Draco is an excellent chef.” Harry piped in. The scowl on his face was slightly hidden, but Draco recognized it from the years that scowl was directed at him. He couldn’t quite remember the last time he had seen it. Draco’s father seemed to be content to pretend Harry didn’t exist. Harry raised an eyebrow in reluctant amusement, looking to Draco who only shrugged.

“I am an excellent chef. I promise.” Draco said.

“When did you learn to cook?” His mother asked.

“Started my last year at Hogwarts in the spring.” Draco answered, “I had to learn because Hermione didn’t know how to do anything. Plus—I like good food.” Draco smiled.

“You get that from me.” His mother said, a twinkle in her eye. That helped Draco relax a bit more. Conversation seemed to be like pulling teeth, but Draco managed. He drank his wine, waiting for when the shoe would drop and his parents would start criticizing. They seemed to be waiting on dinner for that. Harry was moving around the kitchen behind him, putting things in the oven and finishing a few things off.

“Well, let’s move to the table—shall we?” Draco showed them to the table behind them.

“You really should _own_ property Draco.” His father said, sitting down at the head of the table.

“That’s my seat.” Draco said strongly—he wouldn’t let his father dictate who was in charge in his own flat. His father stared at him before moving, “And I would like to own—I’m saving up for it but property in London is expensive. I’d like to buy property and be able to furnish it appropriately. Plus, I’m very content with where I live now. Harry owns property though.” Draco couldn’t help but plug him.

“Oh?” His mother looked to Harry.

“I have Grimmauld Place.” Harry told her.

“Ah yes, the old Black residence. It as dreary as I remember?” His mother asked. Draco knew she meant to be rude, but Harry laughed it off as he put down four salad plates and sat down across from Draco.

“No—goodness no. I’ve been renovating it for a few years—so I don’t live there. It has taken a long time to go through everything. I have to sort out what is worth keeping and what isn’t. And I can’t ask Kreacher—he thinks everything is important.”

“Merlin, that house elf is still alive?” His mother asked.

“Yes.” Harry confirmed as Draco started to eat his salad.

“I would have thought he would have been placed on the wall by now.” Draco wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but it made Harry grin.

“Much to his own dismay, he is still alive and kicking. I have him working at Hogwarts most of the time now. He’d rather iron his ears than admit it, but I do think he enjoys it.”

“And how long have you two been seeing each other?” His mother asked.

“We made it official—oh when was shell cottage? Right before the holidays?” Harry nodded, “Right—then we told friends and family. Sort of kept it to ourselves for a while. Then we went public right before the trial.”

“We were not told beforehand.” His father said, finishing off his glass of wine. Draco poured him another.

“No—but seeing as we had very little contact for the past four years—I didn’t feel inclined to warn you.” Draco said succinctly, proud that his voice didn’t shake. Harry cleared away the salad dishes and brought out soup. It was Draco’s favorite soup of Harry’s—tomato. It was rich, thick and had chunky tomatoes through out. Draco could eat a whole bowl full of it and not look back. But his stomach was turning so he couldn’t eat as much of it as he wanted. They had bought bread a few days ago and let it go stale for the crotons in the soup—which tasted _perfect._

“Tomato soup was always one of your favorites.” His mother said, changing the subject.

“Harry made this one for me. It’s my favorite.” Draco admitted, “We cook a lot for our friends actually. We’re still arguing on who makes the best flank steak.”

“Greg seems to like mine best.” Harry said, grinning at Draco.

“We’ll see.” Draco couldn’t help returning his grin.

“Greg Goyle has been here?” His mother asked, “I just saw his mother yesterday.”

“Yes—well he was here. So was Blaise and Theo—and Pansy, but she didn’t stay very long.”

“Pansy is doing very well.” His father boasted like it was his own child, “Didn’t let anything pull her down.”

“Well, Pansy is resilient.” Draco said tersely. Draco couldn’t help but think his father was implying that Pansy had turned out better than Draco, that she didn’t let the war bring her down. He thought his father was mentioning his letter by proxy—but he might have been reading too far into it.

“How are Blaise and Theo?” His mother asked.

“Doing well. Blaise went into business with Neville Longbottom—and their business has taken off. Blaise has more than he knows what to do with. Theo has been doing a bunch of odd things—some business and some others. But he does well for himself too.”

“His father’s fortune helps.” His father said flatly.

“Yes.” Draco agreed. He noticed everyone was finished with the soup so he cleared it off and got the main course. It was filet with a seafood mixture on top, roasted asparagus and fingerling potatoes on the side. He already knew how his parents liked their steak, so they had been prepared to perfection. He really wished he didn’t set up the table to have Harry sitting across from him. It wasn’t pureblood etiquette, but he would have much rather have Harry sitting next to him. Draco looked to Harry, who smiled encouragingly. His father had finished his glass of wine, so Draco poured more. It made him nervous to see his father drink so much. Clearly he still had a problem.

His father took a bite of steak “Now Draco.” Oh no. Draco’s stomach dropped, “We have come to discus the terms of you moving back in with us.”

“Excuse me?” Draco looked at the two of them.

“Surely you don’t plan to live with that mudblood and date _the chosen one_ forever.”

“Use that word again, and you’re out of my flat.” Draco said, but he didn’t sound nearly as certain as he did when it was just his mother. His father always made him feel so small—so irrelevant. So worthless. The same feelings that had gripped him so long wrapped cool fingers around his heart like they never left.

His father waved his hand, “You live in a hovel. Your mother and I agree you should stop this nonsense and come back to the Manor.”

Draco grit his teeth, looking at Harry for a moment before he said, “I have no desire to get into your good graces if it means coming to live at the Manor, marrying a pureblood witch, or leaving my current job. You are mistaken if you think this dinner is to endear you. I am taking care of myself, I enjoy my life. It is _you_ who must negotiate your terms to get back into _my_ life. It is _you_ who must apologize.” Draco said sternly. He wouldn’t budge on this. He wouldn’t. He had fought too long and too hard to get here.

“Please Draco—don’t be ridiculous.” His father scoffed.

“I am actually quite happy.” Draco said. He pulled on every ounce of patience that he had—hoping the words would come to him that would show his father how much he enjoyed his life. He felt like his patience was a barrel he was quickly reaching the bottom of—but he could do this. He looked at Harry again for some strength, “I have a job I love, good friends and someone to share it with. I would like to have you back in my life as—as my parents and nothing more. I don’t need you to be my matchmaker, or my accountant, or my boss. I just want you in it as my parents. That’s all.”

“Draco you have been disloyal—

“Disloyal?” Something in Draco snapped. The patience he had was gone. Draco interrupted his father, who colored at such an insult but Draco didn’t give a shit. All the anger building up suddenly bubbled to the surface like someone threw a mento in a coke bottle. It was like a surge of lava was going to spew from him. Something shattered from the accidental magic that cracked through him, but he didn’t care what it was, “ _You_ threw _me_ out.” Draco managed to say between the lump in his throat and his grit teeth.

“You were not loyal to this family.”

“I have been _nothing_ but loyal to you for years. I have _this_ because of you.” Draco held up his Dark Mark, “Because you lost the Prophecy and then the Dark Lord found out you’re the idiot who thought giving a young girl a Horcrux was a fucking fantastic idea.”

His father paled instantly, but then sneered, “And living with a mudblood in this _hovel_ —

“Is what I want.” Draco cut off, “And that mudblood saved my life when you couldn’t give two shits about me.” Draco was shaking, “Do you have any idea what it’s like? How many terrible things I did to protect the two of you? How many times sixth year I thought of going to Dumbledore to _save my life_ , but I didn’t because I wanted to keep both of you safe? I tortured people. Tried to kill someone. Let other people _kill_ people I cared about because I wanted to keep you two safe. And then—then after _all of that_ you just toss me aside because I won’t marry a _pureblood witch_. Are you _fucking_ kidding me?”

Draco let out a half deranged laugh, “I hated myself for everything I did. So when you didn’t answer my letter eighth year, I went to the prefect’s bathroom in Hogwarts and decided to end it. I had been threatening to for years—but you two didn’t care about me anymore. I had _no one_. Or I thought I did. That _mudblood_ I live with found me. Found me and my slit wrists in the prefect’s bathroom. She somehow managed to pull me out of the bath—and for some weird PTSD reasons of her own always carries dittany on her. So that _mudblood_ saved my life. Got Myrtle to get Madam Pumfrey. And she sat next to me in the infirmary for days. That _mudblood_ didn’t give a shit about the things I had called her, or the times I had tried to kill her friends.” Draco wiped tears away, “She saved my life—all because I thought I was worthless without you two. So I learned—I learned through blood that I am worth more than what my parents think. So if you think this is a negotiation for me to get my fortune back or your good graces—you can fuck off. It is _my mercy_ , not yours, that matters now.”

It was silent. His mother looked paler than he had ever seen her, and his father just finished his glass of wine. He was furious with them both for not saying anything. The silence stretched even longer and Draco wasn’t quite sure what to do. Emotion burned in his throat but he refused to cry in front of them. He desperately looked to Harry.

“I think it is best for you two to leave.” Harry said, standing up.

“Narcissa.” His father said, he walked around the table without looking back at Draco. His mother did—her eyes staring at Draco as his father walked them to the door. They walked out and dissaperated with a loud crack.

As soon as they were gone, Draco let the emotions consume him. Harry was by his side—he touched his shoulder hesitantly like he wasn’t sure what reaction to expect. Draco closed his eyes and turned into Potter’s grasp. He put his head on Harry’s shoulder and just held him tightly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry asked, rubbing his back.

“It’s—it’s embarrassing.” Draco whispered.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” Harry said sternly. He pulled back slightly to look in Draco’s eyes. He pushed back some hair that had fallen and cupped his cheek, “You have _nothing_ to be embarrassed about.” He reiterated. His green eyes looking so fiercely at Draco that it cut to his soul, “Why was that time different?” Harry asked.

“I—I planned it.” Draco confessed, his entire body was shaking, “At Blaise’s house—I was drunk and there was no forethought. I just did it. So I thought—I thought it didn’t matter. But when I found out about—about how my parents didn’t care. I thought—everything I did—the _horrible_ things I did were for nothing. And I hated it. I could barely move from the guilt of it all. So I thought the only thing to do was to get out. I knew warm water helped bleed faster—slitting up the wrists is much more fatal than across. I thought the prefect’s bathroom was dramatic—so I’d be found.”

Draco shook his head, closing his eyes and swallowing despite the pain in his throat, “It took two weeks—but I planned it all out. It was mid February and I—I went to the prefect’s bathroom and I did it. The pain was—it was awful. But there was this euphoria that made me forget all about it. I liked watching the water turn red—but it was hard to see because I was crying.” Draco fiddled with a button on Harry’s shirt, pressing it flat, “I was losing consciousness when I heard a scream—it was Hermione but I didn’t know it at the time. She saved me. I remember her telling me over and over again that it was going to be alright—she sounded like an angel.”

Draco cleared his throat, “I woke up in the hospital wing with Hermione beside me and Blaise on the other side. There were presents around my bed—way more than what I deserved. Apparently my Arithmancy teacher brought several candies because she heard I loved chocolate, and then so did Flitwick—McGonagall did too. Couple of young Slytherins dropped stuff off too—as a thank you for protecting them from being bullied since they were in Slytherin. I had no idea so many people cared.” Draco’s throat closed and Harry squeezed his arm, rubbing his back gently, “Anyway—I went to a _lot_ of therapy after that. I opened up more to my teachers and my friends.”

Harry kissed his forehead, “I am very glad you were unsuccessful.” His voice was heavy with emotion and it made more tears well up in Draco’s eyes.

He let out a small chuckle that sounded too much like a sob, “Me too.” Harry cupped his cheek again, pulling him gently to look at him. Harry looked like he had been trying not to cry. He kissed Potter’s lips with the amount of fierceness that Harry usually kissed with. He wanted to melt into Harry’s embrace. They pulled apart and Draco tried to focus on catching his breath as Harry ushered him to the couch. He grabbed a big blanket and wrapped it around the two of them, pulling Draco’s legs up and over his lap. Draco hadn’t realized he was shivering until then.

“I’m sorry that did not go well.” Harry whispered.

“I’m sorry too—but I’m glad I tried.” Draco said, looking down as he snuggled against Harry’s shoulder, “I would have always regretted not trying. And thank you for letting me try.”

“I don’t like your parents—but if they were my Mum and Dad I would want to try no matter how much it hurt. I think I bit through my mouth trying not to respond to your father—but I much rather it be on your terms. I hope you don’t mind me asking them to leave.”

Draco shook his head, “Chimed in at the perfect time.” Harry gently rubbed his back and the fell into silence again. Draco wasn’t sure how long he sat there, just feeling Harry’s comfort. He was a bit startled when then floo went off.

“Draco!” Hermione called out, going to his side as Ron came out of the floo behind her.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at a Cannon’s game?” Draco asked.

“They lost in the first thirty minutes—we have the cabin the whole weekend but that’s not important.” She grabbed Draco’s hand, “I was worried about you. It went that badly?”

“Yes.” Draco said resolutely.

She kissed his hand, “I am so sorry.” Draco heard a fork and knife and he turned to see Ron eating some of the food on the table.

“That was my father’s plate.” Draco said.

“Well—I always knew he was a dumb ass. Left all this good food.” Ron said with a smile, and Draco actually smiled back. His own stomach growled.

“Come on—you need to eat. You hardly ate anything while they were here.” Harry said.

“Ok—I could eat some more soup.”

Harry nodded, helping him get on his feet and wrapping the blanket around Draco tightly. He huffed, but waddled over to the table to sit in his spot. Harry had hardly eaten any of his either.

“Well I guess I’ll be your mum.” Hermione said, sitting down in his mother’s seat.

“We still have dessert too.” Draco said—he was particularly proud of his dessert and a bit put out his parents didn’t get to see it. But he pushed back the feeling since it was a bit ridiculous. He managed to wiggle his hands out from underneath his blanket, cutting into his steak.

“Damn. This is fucking good. I don’t care if you were going on about the Dark Lord—I’d listen to whatever you said if I could eat this food.” Ron said. Draco thought he was laying it on a bit thick, but Draco did get a bit pink.

“Harry cooked the beef.”

“You made the marinade.” Harry kissed his head, putting the soup down.

“Fucking love tomato soup.” Draco groaned. Feeling particularly care free, he put a bunch of croutons in his soup.

“Do you want your beef?” Ron asked.

“No.” Draco answered, “But I’ll give it to you if you switch seats with Harry.”

“Why don’t we move the chairs back so it’s two and two?” Hermione suggested, so they took some time to rearrange. Harry sat next to Draco and Ron next to Hermione. Ron was given Draco’s cut of meat.

“Didn’t like it?” Harry asked, concerned.

“I loved it—just too heavy right now.” Draco said, “Want my potatoes?”

“Yeah—want my asparagus?” Draco nodded. They did a careful swap of food.

“How come you share your food with Draco?” Ron asked.

“He doesn’t eat it off my plate.” Harry told him, popping a potato in his mouth. He groaned, “So good.” Draco wanted to fill up on soup, so he wasn’t jealous at all.

“How much soup did you make?”

“I put extras in the fridge.” Draco grinned brightly, kissing his cheek. Harry had his arm wrapped around Draco’s chair, eating slowly with his left. Draco looked to the wine.

“My father drank a lot.” Draco said.

“I wasn’t sure if it was the circumstance.” Harry said softly.

“I—it might have been.” Draco said, looking back down at his soup, “He’s had a problem for awhile—he’s been a functioning alcoholic since—when the Dark Lord started living in the house.”

Ron frowned, “I had an uncle who was an alcoholic—he was mean. Threw things around. Hit Fred once—so we stopped talking to him.”

“He—he gets angry when drunk but—for him he needs it to wake up. I remember coming down stairs for breakfast and him having a glass of wine in his hands.” Draco said with a frown, “Having him sober was unbearable. He would bark at you and kept shaking. But as soon as the wine hit his lips—he’d mellow out. In the beginning of the day it’s fine—but by the end it’s horrid.” Draco smiled, “Good thing I bought a whole case of wine—I think he finished off a bottle by himself.”

Draco curled his feet up onto the chair and ate his soup from his lap because he could. No one was going to call him out for bad manners anymore. Harry rubbed his back, and Draco’s lips twitched into a smile.

“Did the Cannon’s lose in under twenty minutes?” Draco asked.

Ron colored, “No—it was twenty seven.”

Harry and Draco both laughed, “You gotta find a better team.”

“One day they will win—and you’ll all be sorry.” Ron said with a grin, adjusting his horridly orange jersey.

“Yes, well, the Falcons are doing well this year _again_.” Draco said with a sneer.

“Oh Merlin—another bandwagoner.”

“I am not!” Draco said sharply, “I’ve liked them since I was young—my father donated the money to their locker room.”

“Well—fine.” Ron scrunched up his nose, “But Harry is a bandwagon fan.”

“I’ve liked the Falcons since Hogwarts.” Harry defended himself; “I didn’t really get invested into teams until my third year.”

“Band wagoner.” Ron whispered, and Harry just rolled his eyes.

“Quidditch is much more fun if you don’t care about who wins.” Hermione said.

Draco glared at her, “We agree on so many things—but this is not one of them.”

“Can we agree on dessert?” Ron asked.

“Yeah—I’ll get it ready.” Draco sit up, moving his empty bowl into the kitchen, “Let me clean up first.”

Draco didn’t clean alone. With that many people it was like an assembly line. They cleaned up the rest of the dirty dishes and plates, making sure to carefully put away all left overs. Harry _hated_ throwing away leftovers. He would only really do it with limp salad or over cooked food. Once everything had been cleaned, Draco grabbed the dessert, which was sitting under a charm. It had taken him a few years to find the perfect charm to keep them warm but not cook them.

“Chocolate Soufflé” Draco said, sliding them each one before passing out spoons. Hermione groaned as she hovered her nose over it.

“It was worse when he was cooking them.” Harry said. He dipped his spoon in and took a small bite. His eyes rolled back in his head and he turned to Draco, “Fuck that’s good.”

Ron was next, “Holy fuck—I changed my mind. This is my last meal. Why’d you only make four?”

“You stay away from mine.” Hermione pulled hers away from Ron quickly, so Draco followed suit. He took a small bite of his soufflé—perfection.

“Want to play a game of chess?” Ron asked Harry, who nodded. They walked over to the chess set, setting it up on the coffee table.

“You alright?” Hermione asked.

“I will be.” Draco said soundly. He looked down at his dessert, not looking up at Hermione, “I told Harry everything.” He ran his finger along the lip of his dessert cup, “My parents made me upset—so I told them what happened eighth year. In the bathroom.”

“What happened in the bathroom?” Ron asked, he was looking at the two of them. Draco hadn’t noticed he had walked up to use the fridge.

“None of your business Ronald.” Hermione said, her scowl making Ron wince.

“Sorry!” Ron said with his hands up, “I was just asking.”

“N-no. It’s alright. He should know anyway—you really didn’t tell him?” Draco asked. He always sort of figured she had. Not that she wasn’t a loyal friend, but it was difficult to keep something like that away from your significant other. Hermione had dragged his body out of the bath and healed him.

“No!” Hermione said, “It’s not his business.”

Draco looked over to Ron, “I tried to off myself eighth year in the prefects bathroom. Hermione saved my life.” Harry was instantly by his side and he was glad he stood close. Draco was suddenly cold despite the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders.

Ron looked to Hermione then back to Draco, “I had no idea.”

“Yes well, now you know.” He felt a bit awkward, but he was glad he told Ron too. If only for the reason that Ron got some closure on why Hermione and Draco were so close.

“I’m sorry that you felt there was no other option.” Ron looked genuinely upset, then grinned, “And I would have never eaten this!” He looked back to his chocolate soufflé. Hermione just rolled her eyes and Draco grinned.

“I’ll help you beat him at chess.” Draco told Harry, who grinned victoriously. Hermione, Ron and Harry went to the chess set but Draco poured himself another glass of wine. When there was a knock on the door, everyone turned to the door.

“I’ll get it.” Draco said. He started walking toward the door but came back to grab his soufflé, “Not letting the Weasel get this.”

“You should have made more!” The Weasel yelled.

“Fuck off!” Draco yelled back, opening the door, “Mum!”

“I—were you speaking to me?” She asked, looking concerned.

“N-No. I was talking to Ron.” He knew calling the Weasel by his first name would shock his mother the most, but it still felt like tar coming off his tongue, “Come on in.” He stepped back.

“I won’t be here long—I did not mean to intrude your evening.” She said as she walked inside. Harry was standing up, looking at Draco, “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

“Sure—we can go in here.” Draco pointed to his room. Harry made eye contact with him and Draco shook his head. He’d be fine. His mother he could handle.

Draco walked his mother into his room and for an awful second was worried he left sex toys out. He never did, so it was a ridiculous worry. But for a moment he panicked—but his room was clean. Harry’s bag was on the settee—a ridiculous gym bag.

He looked around his room for a moment, then closed the door behind them. He put his soufflé down carefully, wrapping the blanket around him a bit tighter before looking back up at his Mother.

“You came back.” Draco said.

She stared at him for a moment before hugging him. She squeezed him so tightly it nearly hurt, her head on his shoulder.

“I am so _so_ sorry.” She said, her voice heavy with emotion. Draco didn’t think he had ever seen his mother cry, so instantly there was a lodge in his throat, “I have loved you from the instant I found out I was pregnant.” She backed away to look at him, brushing her fingers through his hair, “I remember the first time I held you in my arms—I was lost.” She kissed his cheek, “I love you so much—and I am so sorry I made you feel otherwise.”

“What did you expect would happen?” Draco’s voice cracked, so he cleared his throat, “Why didn’t you do anything?”

“I—I tried—I talked to him but—I just thought you were both being stubborn. I think I was lost in my own grief of everything we lost—not that it is an excuse. I should have never—I thought you would be fine on your own.”

“I am fine.” Draco said strongly, “It just took me awhile to get here.”

“He makes you happy?” His mother asked, rubbing her finger along his cheek.

“Very _very_ happy.” Draco said. She grinned, tears in her eyes.

“Good.” She said, wiping tears from her own eyes, “Good.” She took a shaky breath, “We are going to see each other much more often.” She told him strongly, “I don’t care what your father says.”

“I would like that.” Draco said, smiling a bit.

“Ok—come around for tea on Thursday.”

“Father?”

“Won’t be there.” She said with a scowl, “He and I have—we have a lot to discus.”

“Is he—is he well?” Draco asked.

His mother paused, looking like she was about to snap but then relaxed, “I’ve tried to have him get help—but he is unwilling. It’s one of the reasons why I wanted to stay in France—more anonymous help that way.”

“I am sorry you have to deal with that.”

“He is my husband.” She said sternly, “I would do anything for him.”

“I know Mum.” Draco said curtly—he was cut off for that very reason. She looked horrified for a moment.

“Don’t force me to choose.”

“I’m not.” Draco said, “You already made your choice.”

“That isn’t fair—

“Yes it is fair!” Draco yelled, then let out a breath, “You cut me out of the will—you threw me out on the street! I realize Father made the decision but you _stood by him_.”

“I—I tried to—

“It doesn’t matter what you tried to do!” Draco yelled, “I was abandoned.”

“I had him send you the money.”

Draco laughed, “Oh good. The lump sum—do you want it back? I have enough. I don’t want you two holding that over my head.”

“No we don’t need your money.” His mother said primly.

“And I don’t want yours.” Draco ground his teeth, “The only reason I kept the money is because Blaise convinced me to. I was going to send it back—but he told me to keep it. That I deserved _something_ from you two.”

His mother looked down, “I am more sorry than I can say.”

Draco let out an exasperated breath, “I want you in my life mother—but it is going to take work. I want to forgive you—but I haven’t yet. It’s going to take patience and time to heal our relationship—and it won’t be the same as it was. It never will be. So if you have this idea in your head that I will come back to the fold—then forget about it.”

She nodded slowly, “Ok. Ok. I will.” She let out a breath, “We start today.”

Draco nodded, “And I will see you on Thursday.”

“Ok.” She nodded again before cupping his cheek, “I really do love you. You are my only son.”

“I love you too.” Draco whispered. She kissed his cheek once more before walking to the door. Draco followed her out, feeling Hermione, Ron and Harry’s eyes on him as he ushered her through the front door.

“I will see you soon.” She said strongly.

“Bye Mum.” Draco replied just before she disappeared. Draco walked back into the flat quietly. He knew people were still staring at him as he walked back into his room and grabbed his soufflé. He walked back out and plopped on the couch next to Harry.

“You alright?” Harry asked.

“I—I really don’t have the energy to tell you what was said.”

Harry blushed, “We used extendible ears.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Oh.” Draco was a bit too relieved he didn’t have to talk than he was angry, “—well that saves me the trouble.” He said, leaning against Harry’s shoulder, “You’re losing.” He motioned to the chessboard.

“I was waiting for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see my thoughts a bit 'behind the scenes' as it were... go to my tumblr! Im Caedes12. It'll be posted at some point tonight.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tattoos, work, but mostly fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! Sorry I haven't posted in two weeks. Life has been difficult lately. Nothing life threatening, just life altering. Which is always fun. I love when your whole life is just up in the air. It's great. The best really. 
> 
> Enjoy the fluffy chapter.

The next morning it was still a bit early when Potter shook him awake.

“Draco.” He kissed his shoulder.

“If it’s before ten, I don’t understand why you’re waking me.” Draco said gruffly, keeping his eyes closed.

“I have a surprise.” Harry told him.

“It better not be your cock.”

Harry snorted, “It’s not my cock. But we need to get dressed and leave in thirty minutes.”

Draco opened his eyes, “It better be worth it.”

“I think it will be.” Harry said, though he looked like he might be second guessing himself. Draco took pity on him and got out of bed.

“What do I need to wear?”

“It’s a really casual place—you’ll be fine in whatever.” Harry assured him. Draco nodded, lumbering into his closet. He picked out clothes.

“Can I borrow a jumper?” Draco asked, walking out. Harry nodded, tossing him an extra from his bag. It was an older one, a soft blue color. It smelled like Harry. He brushed his teeth and walked out into the kitchen, “Breakfast?”

“We have to go—we actually can’t be late. But we can grab food once we’re there.” Harry said.

“Harry Potter not late? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Harry grinned, but pulled Draco along. It was an early Sunday morning and a bit chilly. The fog didn’t help. He held Harry’s hand as they walked along the street, “Can you tell me where we’re going now?”

“No. It’s a surprise.” Harry grinned.

Draco got more confused when they walked up to an old jar. It was definitely a portkey, “Where are we going?” Draco asked.

“Hold on.” Harry said, putting his finger on the jar, “We leave in ten seconds.”

“I hate you.” Draco said right before he felt the familiar tug from his navel.

 

They landed in a place Draco didn’t recognize. It was quiet so early on a Sunday morning, but it wasn’t foggy. He scowled, looking around.

“Where are we?” He asked. Harry didn’t answer as they walked. Another two people walked by and Draco heard them speaking in French. It wasn’t necessarily uncommon in England but—he turned to Harry.

“Are we in France?”

“Yes.” Harry answered, turning down another street.

“A—are you getting another tattoo?” Draco asked, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. He knew he didn’t quite manage it when Harry turned to him with a smile.

“Yes.”

Draco grinned, “Oh I can’t wait—what are you getting?”

“I’ll show you in the shop—Guinevere will have a few designs. I haven’t picked one yet.”

Draco nearly jumped excitedly, “Ok.”

They walked up to a building and pushed through the door and walked up the stairwell to the shop on the second floor.

“Bonjour!” A woman’s voice called, then she smiled when she came around the corner, “Oh ‘Arry! I was ‘oping it was you.” The woman was stunning, a few years older than the both of them and covered in tattoos. Her hair was dyed white with cool undertones.

“Guinevere—this is my boyfriend Draco Malfoy.”

“Oh—such a pleasure.” She grinned. Draco complimented her shop in French—it was exquisitely decorated. It was refined without taking away the grunginess of a tattoo shop. Her grin only got larger, “And he speaks Français! You must hold tight to him, no?” She winked at Harry, “And thank you for the compliments on my shop. Some people think it is not a tattoo shop because of decorations—but I like it.” Her phrasing was a bit odd, but English was her second language.

“Your designs?” Harry asked.

“Oh yes—this way.” She waved them back into the shop, showing them a workbench. It had bright muggle lighting over the top of the bench to see better. Harry stepped up to the bench to look at the designs, pulling Draco with him. Draco let out a small gasp as he looked at the sketches. A few different versions of an owl were strewn across the bench.

“They’re beautiful.” Draco whispered.

“Merci.” She said, “ ‘Arry showed me a picture of ze owl as a reference—it was easy to be inspired.”

Hedwig. Draco would recognize that owl anywhere. She had been beautiful.

Harry stood next to him, “I know it’s a bit—sentimental—to get a tattoo of a pet but—for such a long time she was my only connection to the wizarding world over the summer. She was a lifeline. And she gave her life protecting mine.”

“I think it’s wonderful.” Draco told him, and Harry relaxed.

“Tell me which one should I get?” Harry asked, pointing to the designs.

“You’re letting me pick?” Draco asked.

“Yes.” Draco’s chest tightened a bit and he squeezed Potter’s hand

“Where are you getting it?” Draco asked, trying to get an idea of what would work the best.

“Next to the Phoenix.” Harry answered. Draco looked at the designs again with a bit more discretion. He tossed out one immediately, then another. The final three were similar in design—similar to the Phoenix tattoo. Since they would be close, Draco figured it would be best if they were done in a similar style. Draco hovered for a few minutes, hearing Harry and Guinevere chatter on in the background. When he was sure of his decision, he grabbed a design.

“That is your choice?” Guinevere asked when he showed her which one he chose. It was the medium sized of the three options remaining—her wing span open. Usually the phoenix had his wings tucked up, so Draco thought it would be a good contrast. He nodded. Harry was lying on his stomach, his shirt off. Draco sat on the side with his phoenix tattoo—Harry’s right side. He traced the tail feathers with his finger, and the phoenix lifted his sleeping head for a moment before going back to sleep. Guinevere used her wand to put the stencil on Harry’s left shoulder. One wing stretched down Harry’s left shoulder and the other wing moved across his back.

“The wing tips might show if you are wearing a t-shirt—just the ends of them.” Guinevere said, “That alright?”

“Yes.” Harry said. His auror robes had a high neck anyway—and so did dress robes. The owl was going to be in black ink—just like Harry’s other three tattoos. Draco got lost in the buzzing sound, watching Guinevere tattoo. She told him it was a combination of muggle technology and wizardry. A tattoo that size and detail in a muggle shop would take several hours and maybe multiple sessions depending on pain tolerance. A potion helped numb the area, and magic helped speed the process along.

“Who did your ink?” Guinevere asked, midway through Harry’s tattoo.

“It’s—it’s not ink.” Draco said with a frown, not realizing he had pushed up the sleeves of his jumper. It was a bit warm in the parlor, “Dark Mark.”

Guinevere looked at him, shocked, “I—I’m so sorry. I have never seen one.” She looked like she had a hundred questions but thought better of it, going back to doing Harry’s tattoo.

“He used a spell—it wasn’t like this.” Draco told her.

She took in a sharp breath, “Was it painful?”

“Excruciating—nothing like this.” Draco swallowed dryly, she used a rag to wipe away some blood, “I smelled burning flesh for days—I don’t think it’s because it was still healing—it just—that smell doesn’t leave you.” Draco grasped Harry’s hand.

“Have you considered tattoos?” She asked, pivoting away slightly.

“No.” Draco shook his head, then shrugged, “But I love Harry’s.”

“Well—if you ever reconsider—I’ll do your first one on the house.” She said, “I think you’ve earned it.”

Draco smiled, “Thank you.” The buzzing continued—Guinevere asked a few times if Harry was doing ok. He always nodded, looking peaceful. There were a few areas with detail that Draco could tell hurt when she went over them again and again—but otherwise Harry looked content.

It was several hours later by the time Guinevere pulled away from the tattoo.

“Finished!” She cried out, smiling. It was absolutely stunning. She took her wand, “You are going to love this part.” She told Draco. She whispered a spell and Draco watched Harry’s skin ripple. The owl moved his head like it was stiff and then shook out its feathers. It opened its beak in a silent hoot—the phoenix on the other side of Harry’s back answer its call.

“Beautiful.” Draco whispered. Draco couldn’t resist his fingers touching it lightly. The owl ruffled its feathers, stretching its wings out further before settling again.

“You can look now Harry.” Guinevere handed him a mirror, motioning to the full-length mirror on the wall. As soon as Harry saw it, he broke into a smile.

“She’s beautiful.” Harry said, twisting a bit so he could see it better, “Draco—it’s perfect.” Draco suddenly realized Harry hadn’t checked to see what design he chose. He blushed, looking down for a moment, “You always manage to make feathers look so delicate and yet powerful.”

Guinevere grinned, “One of my talents—now I don’t think I have to remind you on healing it?”

“No ma’am.” He said, grinning. They walked back up to the front after she bandaged it up—Harry slid his sweater back on. Another customer walked in just as Harry was handing over galleons.

They walked out the door just as Draco caught the tail end of the customer declaring in French, “Holy shit! Was that Harry Potter?”

“Now. I’m sure you are hungry.” Harry said with a grin as they walked outside. Draco couldn’t quite help himself—launching himself at Harry. Draco pushed him against the stairwell, feeling his body pressed against his. He was careful of his new tattoo as he kissed Harry, weaving his fingers through his hair as he held him close.

“Why did you let me pick?” Draco asked Harry, absolutely astounded.

“I trust you.” Harry said, brushing back Draco’s hair. He pulled on an end, “Getting a little long.”

“I know—I have an appointment tomorrow.” Draco said with a huff, “But Harry—this is permanent.”

“I know. And it’s beautiful.”

Draco kissed him again, “Now take me to lunch—I could eat my own sweater.”

“No need for that—where would you like to go?” Harry asked, “The portkey isn’t until six. We could go to Wizarding Paris to have lunch—or muggle Paris.”

“Muggle Paris.” Draco said instantly, “I’ve never been. Well—only to the one entrance to wizarding Paris by the Louvre—but I’ve never seen any other stuff.”

Harry grinned, holding out his hand to apparate.

*          *          *

“Hell.” Draco rubbed his face. It had been a grueling week. His feet ached from standing up for too long and he hadn’t seen Harry in what felt like forever. Between his travel schedule and Draco’s work, they had barely seen each other. Draco had gone through Harry’s closet to pick out what robes he would wear to the Anniversary event. And he set out his own robes—they had an appointment to get them fitted again to make sure everything was proper.

“You look terrible.” Sammy said, hopping up on the nurse’s station desk. She was short, so her feet swung off the ground.

“I can’t remember what it’s like to sleep.”

She snorted, putting down a cup of coffee next to him, “For you—and despite the dramatics.”

“I’m never dramatic.” Draco said, taking the cup of coffee, “I’m not sure if I should drink anymore. I’m jittery enough.” But he took a large gulp anyway.

“I heard about Patricia—I’m sorry.”

Patricia had passed away the day before. The darkness had overwhelmed her heart. It was as painless as Draco could make it.

“Sam is suing Dermtree.” Draco told her.

“I heard that as well—I also heard he knows St. Mungo’s policies very well.” Her voice was leading, but Draco had too much practice lying to people who were better at legilimency than her. Not that she was trying to sneak a peak inside his head anyway.

“Policies are public knowledge.” Draco told her easily, sitting back in his chair. She raised an eyebrow but nodded. Draco had actually left a policy handbook in Patricia’s bag of belongings—putting a spell to highlight certain phrases. He knew he was being a goddamned Gryffindor but what did he expect when he fucked one nearly everyday?

“Did you ever figure out who cursed her?” Sammy asked.

“No.” Draco rubbed his face, “I have suspicions—but no.”

“If it came out during a trial—that would be bad—depending on what happened of course.” She said with a frown, swinging her feet with her disgusting looking shoes.

“How do you stand looking at them?” Draco asked.

Sammy rolled her eyes, “We are not having another conversation about my shoes—they’re comfortable. I don’t wear them anywhere else other than here.”

“But—you will never find a significant other in those shoes. It oozes to all other parts of your life.”

She snorted, “I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

“Look at me and my shoes—and I landed Potter.” Draco pointed out his shoes—very stylish and sensible.

“Not as comfortable as mine.”

“But they’re brightly colored—and _rubber_.”

She giggled, “You make rubber sound like it’s shit—it’s not that bad Draco.”

“I need all hands on deck!” Winston yelled, and Draco bit back a groan as he stood up. His brain was fuzzy as he walked toward Winston. He was adjusting his collar as the other Healers of the floor walked up—there were twelve Healers on the Dark Arts floor plus Winston, “The Unspeakables did something stupid.” Winston usually wasn’t so cavalier about things—but he was about unspeakables. He thought their job was needlessly reckless, “There are ten of them coming in. How many of you have been on shift for more than ten hours.” Five people raised their hand including Sammy and Draco, “Fifteen?” Sammy and Draco kept their hands up, “You two will be floating in and helping the others.” Draco nodded. He would usually protest—but he felt like horseshit.

Whatever the Unspeakables had been dabbling in had been fucked up. It was chaos as soon as they all hit the floor. Body parts went missing and would reappear in different places—there was vomit everywhere. Twelve people weren’t enough Healers so they ended up calling up Hermione’s floor to help. Draco felt like he was wading through molasses he was so tired.

He walked out of the Healing Room to catch his breath—he sat down on a bench and leaned his head back against the wall.

“Healer Malfoy?” He must have dozed off for a moment, he blinked his eyes over.

“Just give me a minute.”

“There’s someone to see you at the front desk.” The nurse looked nervous.

“Is it urgent?”

“I think you should take it.” She scrunched her nose, so Draco stood up. Could you throw up from being tired? He managed to shuffle his way to the front desk when he saw a familiar man in auror robes.

“We had our robe fitting for the Anniversary of the End of the Wizarding War Ball—fuck I missed it.” Draco said as soon as he saw Harry.

Harry grinned, “It’s no problem—I heard what happened on the Unspeakable floor.” He passed him a cup of coffee.

“Black?”

“Like your soul.” Potter teased, “I also brought this if you want it.” He held out a small pink vial, “Auror Pepper up Potion—it will put you on your feet but get near a bed after seven hours because it will knock you out cold. You can’t fight it—I’ve tried.”

Draco nodded, gratefully taking the potion with one swallow. He felt his limbs lighten and his head didn’t seem so foggy, “Shit this stuff is excellent.” He looked at his watch to see the time.

“Seven hours—it’s all you get.”

“See you at home?”

Harry nodded, “I’ll be there when you wake up.”

“Ok.” Draco kissed his lips, “Thanks for the coffee—and the potion.”

“Just reward me later.”

Draco laughed, kissing his lips again, “I got to go.”

“I know.” Harry said.

 

Draco felt alive as he continued to help heal. Winston knew instantly what had happened, so reiterated that he should be in a bed at the end of seven hours. Draco nodded along, but continued to help.

He worked alongside Sammy until she was too exhausted to be any help. He sent her away and continued to work—despite her protests. He wove limbs back together and made sure body parts weren’t disappearing anymore.

“Hermione!” He called to her after looking on the clock hanging on the wall.

“Draco?” Hermione asked when she ran up to him.

“I have three minutes.” He told her, “I have to go.”

“Three minutes?”

“Auror pepper up—I am going to pass out.” He warned her, continuing to heal a patient.

“Draco!” She admonished, “You should already be home.”

“Continue to heal the patient and—

 

“Ow.” Draco groaned as he opened his eyes.

“You broke your nose—Hermione wasn’t fast enough to keep your nose from hitting the bed frame of the hospital bed.” Harry told him, “I told you that you can’t fight it.”

“I know—I had two minutes left and—oh shit.”

“What?”

“I was looking at the clock on the wall, not my own watch. They might have had different times.” Draco admitted, turning to Harry. He realized he was in his own room, “How’d I get here?”

“Hermione.” Harry said.

“I feel like I got hit by the knight bus.” Draco groaned.

“That’s why I don’t use those pepper-ups very often—feels like you been pushed down by a rolling pin.”

“How long does it last?”

“Few hours—it gets easier.”

“Want to get in bed with me?” Draco asked. Harry grinned, slipping off his shoes before getting into bed. Draco latched onto him, “You’re like a heating pad—feels nice.”

“How did tea go with your Mum?” Harry asked, rubbing his back lightly.

“Better than the first time.” The first time Draco had gone to have tea with his Mum at the Manor had ended in no less than five minutes. Being back in that house had not been good. The second time they met at the apartment and had tea—Draco was much more relaxed but his mother was not, “I just fucking hate that place.”

“I want to see your room one time.” Harry told him.

“Why?”

“I dunno—I have this image of it in my head—I would love to see it.” Harry grinned at him, “Maybe you can fuck me and sneer Potter.”

Draco smiled back at him with a snort, “You’re very odd.”

“I know.” He kissed Draco’s head.

“I tried to redecorate my room—right—right before I left.” Draco swallowed, trying to move closer to Harry even though they were already pressed together, “My mother accused me of rebelling. I just—I didn’t want it to look the same—I wasn’t the same.”

“Did she make you change it?”

“She changed it back.” Draco confirmed.

“I imagine a black headboard.” Harry said.

“You’d be right.” Draco said, which only made Harry chuckle.

“Green walls?”

“I hate you.” Draco said, and Harry laughed outright.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts Ministry Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this chapter earlier, but the holidays snagged me with their sparkly lights and yummy cookies.
> 
> WARNINGS WARNINGS WARNINGS WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Some homophobic language/people not understanding bisexuality told in a story.

Draco ran his fingers through his hair a few times, getting it to lay flat. He was wearing navy blue robes and trying to keep his heart rate down. He could hear people out in his kitchen—hopefully not making a mess. But Harry was out there, so he was sure to keep the mess at a minimum. They were all going to the ministry ball tonight; Potter had to make a speech and everything. The Golden Trio had come over for brunch that morning. Harry seemed to be a bit more reserved than usual—Draco couldn’t tell if it was because of the time of the year or not. Harry didn’t want to talk about it but his nightmares were in full force. Draco had woken in the middle of the night to hear Hermione and Harry talking outside in the living room. He didn’t interrupt but he wanted to help Harry somehow. He just didn’t know what to do, so he had gone back to bed.

“Draco?” Harry called.

“Yes?” He managed to make his voice sound even and Harry stepped into the bathroom. He was wearing charcoal robes that looked incredible. They brought out his green eyes and flattered his muscular figure.

“You clean up well.” Draco said with a grin.

“Not too shabby looking yourself Malfoy.” Harry smiled back and leaned in for a kiss.

“Don’t touch my hair.” Draco warned as Harry moved closer.

“Got it.” Harry said before sealing his lips against Draco’s. It was a short kiss, but it made some of Draco's anxiety melt away if only for a moment, “Fucking hell you look hot.”

“Thank you." Draco flushed at the compliment.

“Ready for a drink?” Harry asked.

“Yes. Please.” Hopefully it would help to calm his nerves a bit. The press already knew he was Harry Potter's boyfriend, but it was a bit different when they showed up together at an event. Draco was imagining all the horrible things Skeeter could say about him or Harry. It made Draco feel a bit better that Harry hated the press, so at least he wouldn't expect positive coverage of their arrival.

He followed Harry out into the kitchen to all the commotion. The kitchen was surprisingly clean—which he knew had to do with Harry. George was there as well as Ron and Hermione, Luna and Rolf and Neville. Ginny was absent—but apparently things had been awkward since she broke up with Neville.

“Ready to go?” Hermione asked, “You have your speech?”

“In my pocket.” Harry tapped his chest.

“Want a shot?” George asked, holding out a shot glass full of firewhiskey.

“Not before a speech.”

“I’ll take it.” Draco said, snagging it and throwing it back before anyone could protest.

“You worry too much.” Harry said, pulling him towards the door.

“We’re not going to floo?”

“No—I can never make it look graceful—I’d rather face the press upright.” Harry said and Draco followed him with a shrug. It didn’t really bother him which way they arrived, as long as they did it together.

“See you there!” Hermione called as she walked through the floo and Harry apparated them away.

 

The world was full of lights—the sounds of cameras flashing came from everywhere. Draco stood firm next to Harry, trying not to let his anxiety overwhelm him.

“Mr. Potter—The Daily Prophet!”

“Mr. Potter—Witch Weekly!”

“Mr. Malfoy—Daily Prophet!”

“Mr. Potter!” The nearly hundred reporters were yelling and practically climbing over each other to get a better picture. Draco posed with Potter for a few seconds, looking out to the camera.

“We’ll take a few questions.” Potter said.

“Is it true you have been cheating on Draco Malfoy with—

“No.” Harry cut off instantly. There had been a rumor about a wife and a child on the side, “You guys always seem to think my life is much more scandalous than what it is—Draco and I have been dating for seven months, there has been no cheating during this time.”

“I can’t believe they just _ask_.” Draco murmured. It was easy to cover up what he said because the cameras were still loudly flashing and going off. Draco didn't know how the press managed not to have their eyes burned out. 

“They’re ruthless.” Harry whispered back.

“Did you elope in Aruba?” That was one of the more ridiculous rumors. Did people even go to Aruba to elope? How did that even become a rumor? Draco had a suspicion George was involved, but didn’t have any proof.

“No!” Harry scoffed, “Any real questions?”

“Are you dating to help his reputation?” Another question asked.

Harry scowled and before Draco really knew what was happening, he was attacked. Potter snogged him in front of everyone with gusto—but was mindful not to touch his hair. Draco laughed into the kiss—definitely running his fingers through Harry’s hair. The world exploded in light—the cameras going like crazy. It almost made Draco feel like they were alone, as he couldn’t see anyone else but Harry.

“Does that answer everyone’s question? Good.” Harry escorted him away from the paparazzi and into the party. There was a line that the press couldn't cross, thank goodness. Reporters were still allowed in the room, but no more cameras. Draco didn't think he could take the flashing lights all evening.

“Fucking hell.” Draco whispered.

“Think we’ll make it above the fold?”

“No—below.”

“You’re on.” Harry said.

“What are we betting?”

“Bottle of Ogden’s?”

“The expensive label—not the cheap shit.” Draco said.

“Done.” They shook hands.

“Ginny Weasley over here!” The press went nuts, making both Harry and Draco turn around. Ginny had cut her long red hair into a short pixie cut. Draco frowned a bit—it wasn’t that she looked bad, but it was an extreme cut. Harry shook his head.

“We might have been displaced.” Harry said as they walked over to a cocktail table where all their friends were waiting with drinks.

“Fucking hell mate—we should never do this again.” Ron said to Harry.

“I agree.” Harry told him.

“Drink?” A waiter walked up with empty glasses.

“Water please.” Harry said, “And a firewhiskey—right?” He looked at Draco who nodded. The drinks magically filled and Harry grabbed both.

“Another firewhiskey please.” Draco said.

“Getting sloshed?” Ron asked.

“No—for Harry after he finishes his speech.” Draco said.

“I’m getting sloshed.” Neville said into his drink, the man did look a bit down.

“Hey guys!” Hannah Abbott walked into the group—looking beautiful in a dark green dress.

“You look fabulous.” Draco said before he really thought about who he was talking to. He had never really bullied Hannah in Hogwarts, but that didn't mean they were friendly. Obviously. He flushed a bit, but Hannah took it with ease. 

She winked at him, “I think your bias for your colors.” He smirked.

“About ready for that speech?” Kingsley asked, slapping Harry on the back. It was a little too loud of a slap and Draco thought Harry was a strong man for not wincing under the blow. It looked like Kingsley had already had a few drinks before coming over. 

“Yes—ready to get it over with.” Harry nodded.

“The key is to take the whiskey shot right before you walk on stage—so it doesn’t effect you until after.”

Harry laughed, “Draco has my drink ready for me.”

“Alright—well follow me and let’s get this over with.” Kingsley said. Draco followed the two of them to the stage, keeping an eye on Harry. Harry was shaking—he looked like he was about ready to come out of his skin. To someone who didn't know him very well, it probably wouldn't have been noticeable, but Draco saw the small signs of distress. Draco had no idea he would be this nervous—he always seemed so in control when he made speeches.

“Don’t be nervous. You’ll be perfect.” Draco told him, elbowing his arm since he had two drinks in his hand. He set them on a small side table by the stage as Kingsley made sure the band was doing alright. There was a quartet playing music for the evening so the Minister made his rounds and shook their hands.

Harry let out a harsh breath, “So no pressure?”

“I can blow you in the bathroom if that’ll help.” Draco said and Harry cracked a smile.

“I don’t think I could get it up right now.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Harry snorted, “No.”

“I can blow you after as a reward.”

“That’s more promising.” Harry said with a grin.

“Harry! You ready? I want to be able to eat.” Kingsley said from the stage.

“Well you know me—I love being the center of attention.”

He laughed, “I’ll say a few words and then introduce you. Good luck” Kingsley said.

“Better make it a short introduction.” Harry said, “I might run.”

“You always threaten that—you have yet to do it.” Kingsley said with a laugh.

“One time I will.” Harry said, adjusting his sleeves.

“Then I’ll be brief.” Kingsley said, winking before stepping up onto the small stage. He put the wand to his throat and must have done the spell soundless because his voice boomed, “Welcome!” The crowd around all stopped talking, turning to Kingsley, “Welcome to the Fifth Year Anniversary of the End of the Wizarding War.” There was polite clapping, “I’m so glad to see so many friendly faces out there. Thanks so much for coming out tonight. It is good to see some of you dress up for once.” There was polite laughter, “Without further ado, I introduce the reason why we’re all here—Harry Potter.”

“I hate it when he says that.” Harry grumbled to Draco before he stepped onto the stage. It was an instant transformation as he stood up taller and looked confident. Harry’s grin was large as he waved at the crowd that was clapping—a few whistles from the Weasley’s. Draco grinned, clapping as Kingsley moved to stand next to him.

“Good Evening!” Harry said, his voice booming with his wand to his throat, there was people saying hello back, “Let’s take a moment of silence for the ones that we wish could be with us.” Draco stood silent thinking of Crabbe dying in the fiendfyre. Snape. Silence in a room full of so many people—so many people who had lost so much, “Thank you everyone for coming—I know this time of year isn’t the easiest for people to get through. It isn’t easy for me. It _is_ easy to get consumed by what we have lost. Friends, sisters, mothers, brothers—god fathers, sons.” Harry let out a shaky breath,

“But I was recently reminded by how much we have gained. This morning, my best friends were making pancakes, my boyfriend sitting next to me, and I felt peace for the first time on this day in five years. _This_ is what we fought for. We fought so that a pure blood, a blood traitor, a half-blood and a Muggle born could all sit together around the kitchen table and eat pancakes. It sounds like such a simple thing—to just sit down and have breakfast. But while on the run, I found that simple things were what I missed the most. I missed pumpkin juice, dinners in the great hall, playing chess in the common room and feeding the Hogwart’s thestrals. All the while, dreaming of a world that would include everyone. Where not one person is left behind.

“We’re not perfect. There are many things I did—decisions I made—that I regret and that keep me up at night. But I have people that pick me up when I fall down, that support me through all my failings—and I have a fair few. I think my temper is almost as legendary as my scar at this point.” There was some laughter, “But I guess my point to all this is—the war is over. We can _all_ enjoy peace. And I, for one, am going to take my sliver of it.” Harry’s eyes met Draco’s and his heart definitely stopped for a couple seconds, “So enjoy yourselves tonight!” There was loud cheering as Harry stepped off the stage, and Draco grabbed his hand.

“You’re a Hufflepuff.” Draco whispered.

Harry snorted, “I was that bad?”

“At risk of blowing up you’re already large ego—you were brilliant.” Draco said with a smile, leaning down for a chaste kiss. Draco just managed to give Potter his drink before he was whisked away to socialize by Kingsley—which left Draco free to find his own friends.

“I still think you’re an idiot.” Pansy came up beside him, standing at the cocktail table he had usurped.

“I’m not.” Draco told her.

“Fine. I guess there is a certain prestige that goes with dating the Savior of the Wizarding World.”

“You should see him try to iron his auror robes and call him that.” Draco said with a snort. Harry wasn’t the Savior to him—he never would be. The man was an idiot—his idiot apparently.

“You’re in love with a Gryffindor—never thought I would see the day.” She huffed, throwing back the rest of her martini. Draco didn’t like to think about that word. He had purposefully not thought about it in weeks.

“Who is your date?” He changed the subject to Pansy, she was always willing to be distracted by herself.

“Eli Strom—from the Wizengamot.”

Draco nodded, then paused, “Isn’t he nearly forty?”

“He is forty one.” Draco raised an eyebrow at Pansy, “A pureblood and as wealthy as they come—you can congratulate me at any time.”

“Congratulations.” Draco said, trying not to feel squeamish. This was typical for purebloods, but it somehow felt so foreign to him. He was supposed to do this himself—but he couldn’t quite imagine doing it. Another blonde woman walked up, saying hello to Pansy and kissing both cheeks.

“Draco Malfoy—this is Astoria Greengrass.”

“Pleasure.” Draco managed to say perfectly—only because of years of pureblood training that kept his body neutral. This was the woman his mother wanted him to marry? She was attractive—he understood why his mother was so keen on it. But it seemed a little too fitting that Astoria was close by. Pansy and his mother still got tea together frequently and Draco saw right through a thinly veiled plan to pull him in. But he wouldn't be so easily seduced. It was right then he saw Longbottom stumble his way to the bar—so he figured it was the perfect exit, “If you’ll excuse me.” Draco went off without waiting to hear anything from them and went up to Longbottom just as he took a new drink from the bartender. The man tried to lean on the bar but slipped, so Draco wrapped his arm around Longbottom’s waist and pulling him off to the side.

“I’m FINE.” He said a bit too loudly. Draco ignored him as he moved around some draping that went around the event room and pulled him down an abandon corridor, out of view.

“Neville—you can hardly stand.” Draco said.

“You—you never call me by my name.” Neville said.

“I am because I am serious.” Draco said, “You need a sober up spell—you’re falling all over the place.”

Neville sighed, “Still not black out drunk.”

“What happened?” Draco asked, “Is it because Ginny cut her hair? You know she isn’t getting back together with you now.”

“What does hair have to do with it?” Neville scrunched his nose and Draco took his glass of firewhiskey before he could drink it.

“No.” Draco said sternly, vanishing it, “Well—you know women. They cut their hair off when something emotional happens.”

Neville nodded, “Her hair’s got nothin’ to do with me—which is why I need more of that firewhiskey.”

“What happened?” Draco asked again, a bit more softly.

“She—I don’t think she ever liked me.” Neville said with a frown, “I think—she’s the kinda girl that always has someone—ya know? Never single. I think—I think she just was waiting for him the whole time.” Draco felt a rock in his gut—they both knew who _he_ was without having to say it.

Draco sighed, “That explains Hermione’s attitude at the beginning more than not.”

“It does?” Neville looked up at him.

“I—Hermione was really mad at first for me being with Harry and—she made an excuse about girl code or whatever. Which I thought it was because Hermione figured Harry and Ginny would get back together eventually—I didn’t think she had a real reason to think about it.”

Neville put his head back against the wall, “Did everyone know but me?”

“No—Hermione is smarter than the rest of us—so I don’t think so.” Draco said, “Want me to preform the sober up charm?”

“Yeah.”

“If you vomit—do it away from me.”

“Will do.” He promised just before Draco hit him with the charm. Nearly two seconds later Neville threw up—but managed to miss Draco entirely. Draco vanished it quickly.

“Fuck.” Neville pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You can come over to our apartment you know—if you want to commiserate. I’m great at pouring whiskey and talking shit about people to make other people feel better.” Draco offered.

Neville grinned, “Are we friends?”

“We can be.” Draco said.

Neville stuck out his hand, “Thank you Draco. I’ll take you up on your offer sometime—I heard your cooking is amazing.” Draco’s ears got a bit hot, but he shook Neville’s hand before the two of them walked back out into the main area.

“Are you cheating on me with Neville?” Harry asked, slipping his hand around Draco’s back.

“Trying too—but Neville keeps insisting that he’s straight.” Neville laughed right before Harry did.

“I’m going to find some water.” Neville said, waving to the two of them.

“I preformed a sober up charm on him.” Draco explained, “Talked to me about Ginerva.”

“Oh.” Harry sounded deceptively even.

“Potter! You fucking _knew_ she still liked you?” Draco asked, hissing through his teeth a bit.

“Found out right after they broke up.” Harry confirmed.

“That was _weeks_ ago.”

“I’ll explain later—I promise. Just not here with ears.”

Draco nodded as he looked away, “Fine—I understand.”

Potter looked uncomfortable, pulling lightly on Draco’s arm, “I should have told you, but I promise it’s because you have _nothing_ to worry about.”

Draco let out a breath, turning to Harry, “I know that.” He swore.

Harry grinned brightly, and it almost made Draco forget why he was mad at him, “Want to dance?”

“Yes.” Draco said, “But I lead since of the two of us—I’m probably the better dancer.”

“I won’t argue with that one.” Harry confirmed as Draco led him to the dance floor. The cameras that were behind the press line went off as Draco joined hands with Harry on the dance floor, “I don’t think I’ve ever been the girl.”

“You’re still not a girl.” Draco said with a chuckle as they started to dance. Harry winked at him as they danced, moving effortlessly around the dance floor, “I admit I expected worse.”

“Mione made me take lessons.” Potter admitted, his cheeks getting pink.

“So I can get complicated?” Draco asked.

Potter snorted, “No—I was the guy in that part.”

“You’re still a male Potter.” Draco told him again.

“I know—but only practiced your side of it.”

“We’ll have to go get lessons again.” Draco said with a sigh.

“Mione had to promise to do a lot of my paperwork for three weeks to get me to go.” Harry said with a snort.

Draco grinned, “I think I can offer something else.”

“You look evil when you grin like that.” Harry said, then sighed, “It shouldn’t turn me on like it does.” Draco laughed, swirling Potter around before pulling him back into his embrace. He pulled him a bit took close, kissing his lips.

“My place after this?”

“I thought you promised me a blow job in the toilets?”

“Seriously?” Draco asked, wondering if they could get away with it. Probably if they used the restroom of the side, it was a bit further away.

“No—I’d be too worried someone would find me and the picture would _definitely_ make it above the fold.”

“Well—certain parts wouldn’t.” Draco leered.

Harry laughed, his whole face lighting up and Draco lost his breath. Draco did _that_ —he made Harry look like that. Draco let out a breath. The warmth that spread through him could only possibly be one thing. It took Pansy saying it, but now he was absolutely sure she was right. He was in love. He was in love with Harry Potter.

“You alright?” Harry asked, looking at him funny.

Draco smiled faintly, “Yeah.”

“Because you know—if you aren’t feeling well, we’ll go home right away.”

Draco laughed, kissing him a little too long, “You’re ridiculous. Why would you need to come with me?”

“Someone will have to watch over you.”

“I’m a healer.”

“Right—so you just lie in bed and tell me what to do.”

“I do that anyway.” Draco winked, and Harry blushed.

“Not all the time.” He huffed, but then smiled again at Draco.

“You haven’t distracted me from the other conversation we need to have.”

“Oh alright.” Harry rolled his eyes, “If you pretend you’re sick we can have it sooner.” He bargained.

“Go play nice.” Draco said, nudging him off as the music ended. Just as it did a flash of a feather peaked over the collar for just a second.

“What? Do I have a love bite on my neck?” Harry asked, “Because that’s your fault.”

“No—Hedwig’s wings just came up for a second.” Harry looked startled, “I—sorry—I know it’s not Hedwig but—”

“I got it in memory of her—she is Hedwig. I guess I just didn’t hear it out loud before.” Harry whispered.

“She just wants to be part of the action.” Draco ran his fingers over Harry’s shoulder where the tattoo was underneath. The wings flashed up for just a moment on Harry’s neck again, “I think she likes me.”

“Fuck knows why.” Harry grinned.

“Harry!” A member of the Wizengamot called him, so Harry wandered off. Draco found Hermione and asked her to dance—which she readily agreed to. Ron wasn’t that big of a dancer.

Draco couldn’t really decide if he wanted to talk to Hermione about Ginerva—but he did anyway, “Neville told me about Ginerva. I am sorry you felt like you had to decide between friends.” He said.

Hermione stiffened in his arms for a moment but then relaxed, “I’ve known her plan for—for too long. I kept telling her it wasn’t fair to Neville, but I couldn’t tell _him_. And then when you started seeing him—she really thought now was her time. I wanted to tell Neville, and I wanted to tell Harry.”

“It wasn’t your place.” He agreed.

“I wish I would have handled the whole thing differently now.”

“You can’t change the past—just endeavor to do better next time.” Draco told her.

“I know. But I wasn’t fair to you.” Hermione said, “In an effort to be fair to Ginny—I wasn’t fair to you. And I’m sorry.”

“I already forgave you.” Draco told her.

Hermione scrunched her nose a bit, “Harry is so happy with you—and you are so happy with him.”

Draco grinned, “I would have never thought that would be possible.”

Hermione chuckled, “Miracles really do happen.”

 

The rest of the evening went well. Draco even had a few conversations with other Gryffindors that didn’t make him feel like punching anyone. Seamus Finnigan was actually quite funny—despite being a drunk. Harry found him later in the evening.

“I’m ready to go home.” Harry said, pulling him toward the apparating points.

“Now will you talk to me about Ginerva?” Draco asked as they walked into his apartment.

“She came to me right after she broke up with Neville—wanted to get back together.” Harry said.

“What?” Draco tensed.

“I said no—I wanted to be with you. She—she said me telling her about our relationship prompted her to break up with Neville. She felt like she had to in order to be with me.” Harry shook his head, “I didn’t know she had been waiting for me to stop ‘dallying’ for years. I really moved on from her a while ago. I saw her as a friend—and I wouldn’t have lead her on like that for years.” Harry frowned, “She said some cruel things.”

“What things?” Draco asked.

“I—I’m not sure I should say.” Harry looked uncomfortable, looking at his hands.

“Harry—I will always be on your side. Always. And I’m probably never going to be friends with Ginerva—but I promise I won’t hex her for what she said.”

Harry nodded, sitting on the bar stool and looking a bit defeated, “She said—she said if all I wanted was to fuck someone’s asshole that she had one or if I wanted to get fucked, she’d buy a strap on. Like—like that’s all I wanted out of our relationship.” Harry reached out, pulling Draco closer. Draco had to bite his cheek to keep his temper in check. There were so many things wrong with that statement he didn't know where to begin.

“What did you say?” Draco managed to ask, rubbing Harry's back a bit. Harry was still looking at his hands as he scrunched his nose. 

Harry let out a breath, “I wasn’t nice—and then she tried to convince me that the only reason we weren’t together is because I was _gay_ —then I really lost my shit.” Draco squeezed Harry’s arm a bit, unable to hold back his anger, “Told her how great my relationships were with other women—how much I enjoyed them over her.” Harry ran his fingers through his hair, “I really wasn’t nice. We haven’t spoken since—but I don’t think she told Hermione what I said either.”

“I don’t think so.” Draco agreed, “I’m sorry you fought with her because of me.”

Harry shook his head, “This fight was inevitable with whomever I ended up with—I think. I wasn’t going to end up with her no matter what. I don’t love her.” Draco kissed him lightly.

“I would like to know—next time—if you have a fight with someone, a big trauma in your life or whatever.” Draco whispered, pushing back Harry’s hair, “I think you didn’t tell me because you didn’t want me to worry. But when you don’t tell me—it makes me feel like you don’t want me to know a piece of you. Something bad happened to you, and I would like to know about it.”

Harry smiled, “Ok.” They kissed again, Draco got to taste the whiskey he had that evening and the undercurrent of maple and musk. He threaded his fingers in Harry’s thick hair.

“Want to fuck me?” Draco asked.

Harry laughed against his lips, “Fuck yes.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> St. Mungo's drama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two weeks in a row. I'm on FIRE.

Draco had his feet propped up on the nurse’s stand, his finger carefully going along the page. He was scanning for any sort of error.

“I’ll forgive you today for having your feet up on my station.” Sherry said, her harsh tone not matching the smile on her face, “Congratulations Draco.”

He smiled back, “Thank you.” The potion he had used to neutralize the acid on the auror had finally gotten published. Harry had celebrated with him thoroughly. And Draco did mean _thoroughly_. Harry had covered every inch of him with a lick, nip and a kiss. It definitely motivated him to get published again.

“Just remember when you’re running this floor that I got you there.” Sherry said, making Draco laugh.

“I would never forget about you.” He promised. The doors dinged open for a new case, but Draco was slow to his feet. Usually he sprinted after new cases, but today he was reveling in his win. Sherry also seemed content to let other nurses take the lead on this one. Three of the Healers from Draco’s floor crowded around the patient, so he wasn’t worried as he looked back down at his article, “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Sherry snorted, “And they say being a reformed Death Eater has humbled you.” It is one of the reasons he liked Sherry so much is that she wasn’t afraid to bring up his past.

“Witch Weekly likes a good story better than they like the truth. I don’t think anyone that knows me would accuse me of being humble.” Draco said with a laugh. He looked back up at the gaggle of healers and realized they weren’t doing anything—they were all just standing around.

“Please!” The patient cried out, and ice went through Draco’s veins—what the fuck was going on? Draco walked around the desk and jogged up to the group of healers and nurses that were just standing around. Three long slashes went across the patient’s torso.

“I need an HR open stat.” Draco said, “I need blood replenishing potions, and you—” Draco looked to another healer, “Help me heal him.” It would definitely take two people to help get these wounds healed with spells, the cuts were too deep. The healer looked at him with a blank stare. What was his name again? Fuck. Draco couldn’t remember. Draco turned to another Healer standing there whose name he did remember, “Oliver. Step up.”

Oliver stared at Draco, “He’s a werewolf—he told us.”

Draco scowled, “Werewolves can only turn people on the full moon—which it is not the full moon for another two weeks. His bite now would only cause you to crave red meat on the full moon _and_ —” Draco turned to the patient, “Do you plan on biting me?”

“Fuck no!” He cried out.

“Then we’re fine.” Draco said, “Anyone who wants to help this patient can, but everyone else needs to move the _fuck out of my way_.” He moved the gurney toward an open HR and was shocked to find not _one person_ followed him. No one held open the double doors for him, so he pulled the patient through the door.

“What’s your name?” Draco asked, pushing the patient into the center of the room.

“Aiden.” He said, tears were rolling down his cheeks.

“Aiden—my name is Draco. I’m going to heal you—ok?” Draco said, and Aiden nodded, “You’re going to want to go to sleep—but I need you to stay awake.” Aiden nodded again, “Accio blood replenishing potion.” A bottle soared from the potion stores. Draco uncorked it quickly and fed it to Aiden. He got a pain potion as well. With two people this spell hurt, but with only one it would be excruciating. The pain potion would help numb him—but it wouldn’t help enough, “This is going to hurt.” Draco warned before he started.

Draco always thought healing was methodical—which is why he was so good at it. There was an ebb and flow to it that he could pick up instantly. It was a bit like sewing, trying to get body parts to stitch back together.

“Draco?” A soft voice called to him. He stopped healing and blinked, coming back to himself. Sherry stood next to him with water, “You look like you’re going to drop.” He gratefully took the water, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Check his vitals. I can’t monitor them and heal him at the same time.” Draco told her. She looked hesitant, “He isn’t contagious in this form—and he won’t bite you.” Draco looked up to the Aiden, “How are you doing Aiden?”

“I’ve had better days—to be honest.” He said, managing a grin that looked more like a grimace, “I—you can let me go. I think I can heal myself from here. I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“You are not trouble.” Draco said sternly.

He looked at Draco with a raised brow, “I am definitely trouble.”

“Oh fine—but because people are arses. I have a reputation to uphold—I’m not letting you leave here like this.” Draco told him. The man grinned despite his obvious fatigue.

“Ok—but my wife. My wife is worried about me—my kids.” Aiden said.

“Where is your wife?” Sherry asked, glancing at the door. It was clear she didn’t want to be in the room.

“My house—just say The Den and the floo address will take you there.”

“The wards?”

“Are set to allow people from St. Mungo’s with no ill intention.” He said.

Sherry nodded, “Ok—I’ll be back.”

“My wife and children are—they’re like me.” He said, “I—I don’t mean to make it sound—they won’t hurt you—but I want you to know before going in.” Sherry took a shaky breath but nodded.

“I’ll be back.” She sounded nervous, but walked out the door anyway.

“I’m so sorry.” Draco said.

“You can’t help how people perceive this disease.” He said, “I—I would have thought you’d agree.” It still unnerved Draco that people he never met knew things about him. When he was young, being famous was a dream. Now that he was in the public eye, it was just awkward. Though he thought he handled it well, considering everything.

“I lived with Greyback for two years—he’s a fucking cunt.” Draco said decisively, “But that isn’t because he is a werewolf. I saw him bring in others—tried to persuade them to join the Dark Lord. Some refused—tortured and killed for it. Others joined out of fear.” Draco frowned, “Then I saw Greyback turn people out of _pleasure_. People who had defied the Dark Lord. They were people—just like me. Greyback was a monster—not the people he turned.”

Aiden nodded.

“I’m going to continue healing you—alright?”

“Yeah. It’s still going to hurt?”

“Yes.” Draco said.

Aiden nodded again, “Ok.”

 

Draco continued to heal, not really caring how much it took out of him. This man had a wife and children to get back to. He continued to move with the pace of healing him until he suddenly came back to himself. He felt like a kitten kneazle he was so weak.

“I’m afraid I can’t do anymore than that.” Draco whispered, his limbs heavy, “Maybe tomorrow I can—but I can’t do anymore.” He confessed.

“You’ve done so much—I can head home.”

“No—you’re staying here.” Draco said sternly, “You aren’t well enough yet. I will keep you overnight for observation.”

“No—I’ve put you in enough trouble.”

“So a bit more won’t be any worse.” Draco said sternly, starting to push the gurney toward the exit. It was difficult given his magical depletion, his muscles didn’t want to move. He managed to push the doors open, he couldn’t with magic and pull Aiden through. Several nurses and healers stopped to stare at the two of them, but no one moved to help him.

Draco looked to the nurse that was in charge of assigning rooms, “What room can I put him in?” His tone brokered no room for arguments and dared someone to say a word.

She looked nervous and startled, “The—room 315 Healer Malfoy.” She sounded terrified.

“Thank you Whitney.” He said, pushing Aiden down the hall. Once they were a bit away from prying eyes, Draco looked to Aiden, “She put you at the end of the hall and away from everyone else—but jokes on her because they’re the bigger rooms.”

Aiden laughed weakly, looking exhausted and not as healed as Draco wanted him to be. He would have to use potions to keep the wounds from infecting. Just as soon as he got to the room he could do that.

“My wife?” Aiden asked, looking over Draco’s shoulder. Sherry grabbed the gurney and help push.

“Out in the waiting room with your children—I’ll bring them back immediately.” Sherry promised.

“Thank you.”

Draco shut the door, going to the potion storage in the room for something to keep the wound from infecting, “And you get a private room.”

“And they say there aren’t any benefits to being a werewolf.” Aiden joked, and Draco smiled back.

“Aiden!” The door was pushed open as a woman walked in with two children. One was in their early teens and the other couldn’t have been older than six. Draco didn’t think they were biological children to Aiden or his wife. But all three were werewolves, Draco supposed it was the reason they were a family.

“I’m alright Kali.” Aiden said.

“You can touch his hand.” Draco told her when she hesitated to touch Aiden, still putting salve on the wounds, “I’ve done what I can for now—I’m magically depleted otherwise I’d do more.” He confessed, “We keep him overnight for observation—and I’ll try again tomorrow.”

“Because no one else will help.” The eldest son said with a scowl.

“Yes.” Draco answered honestly.

“Can’t you make someone help?”

“Jack!” Kali scolded.

“No—and I wouldn’t risk it either.” The young daughter leaned into her brother’s leg, sucking her thumb. Merlin. She was so little, “Not for their sake—but for Aiden’s.” He wiped his forehead that was sweaty, “I have to go fill out paperwork, but I’ll be back.”

“Does—I can put more ointment on him.” Kali said, “I’m not squeamish with wounds.”

“None of us are.” Jack said flatly, “Comes with the territory.”

“Ok—more is better. Make sure the coating is even. It’s going to hurt him, but that’s fine. It’s to keep infection away. Working slower is better.” Draco said, trying to keep himself awake, his eyes heavy.

 

Draco walked out into the main nurses station where everyone was gathered—whispering. They stopped as soon as they saw Draco—he was disappointed to see Sherry sitting with them. They were staring at him.

“I lived with monsters.” Draco told them, glaring, “They tortured people for fun and loved causing others pain. Aiden is not a monster. When a criminal comes through those doors, you are all capable of putting aside your grievances to heal them. Aiden has _no_ _choice_ with his disease—and didn’t have to inform you of his illness. But he did—because he knew how’d you react. And you let a patient suffer—would have let him bleed to death—for something he could not change.”

Draco ran his fingers through his hair, “You shame the oaths you took when taking this job when you can’t see past your own bias. We swore to heal a patient, no matter the circumstance. And you all violated that vow today.” He grabbed the paperwork necessary for his patient and walked out of the room.

His eyes were blurry when he walked back into Aiden’s room.

“Ok. I’ll be here to observe—but it’s—we’ll have to be creative.” He took the love seat by the door, “I need sleep—I’m magically depleted. Nothing will happen, but if it does you will need to wake me up.”

Kali nodded.

“You can go home Healer Malfoy.” Aiden insisted.

“It’s Draco.” Draco told him as he plopped down, “And I sleep here more than I don’t anyway.” He waved him off, not sure if he had the energy to walk to the floo anyway. He got horizontal and honestly didn’t remember if anyone responded before he passed out.

 

“Babe?” A familiar voice made him open his eyes.

“Harry?” Draco moved as Harry sat down beside him. It was dark on the hall, so he had been asleep a few hours. Kali was asleep in a chair next to the bed and the two children were asleep on the floor. It normally wouldn’t be allowed, but Draco figured no nurse dared to come into the room to check.

“You didn’t come home—I came to see what had happened and a nurse pointed me to this room.”

“He’s a werewolf. They wouldn’t heal him so I had to do it myself—I don’t think I could light a candle when I finished healing him.”

“You’re getting better?”

“Yeah.” Draco nodded, laying back down on Harry’s lap.

“Will he make it?”

“Yeah.” Draco whispered, “Now shush! Be a good pillow.” He got comfortable on Harry’s thigh. Draco fell back asleep nearly instantly. He was still exhausted.

 

It was a few hours later he felt someone adjusting him.

“Sh!” He grumbled, trying to get more sleep.

“Grump.” Draco was kissed on the cheek before left alone again.

It wasn’t that much later Draco started to rouse. His magic was still not where he’d like it, but it was much better than before. Kali was awake, but no one else was.

“I put more ointment on him in the night.” She said. Draco nodded as he sat up. It was unnecessary for her to do that, but Draco didn’t need to tell her that.

“Was my boyfriend here last night?” Draco asked, performing a teeth cleaning charm as soon as he grabbed his wand.

“There was a man who was sitting with you—I believe he left fifteen minutes ago.”

“Oh.” Draco stretched a bit.

“He didn’t have to watch over you—you know. I saw his auror robes. We won’t hurt you.”

Draco snorted, “Harry was here because he is a sentimental prat—not because he is worried about you hurting me.” He performed a few diagnostic charms on Aiden as his patient began to rouse.

“I woke up again.” Aiden said cheerfully.

“That is not funny.” Kali chastised, but Draco grinned.

“You’re vitals are excellent—I’m not quite capable of healing you more yet, but I will—” A knock on the door made him turn. Harry pushed open the door with a large white cardboard box and another to-go container full of coffees.

“Brought breakfast.” Harry said with a smile. The two children on the floor sat up nearly instantly. He set the carrier of coffee down, “I bought five—didn’t know if you liked coffee or not,” He looked at Jack and then turned to the little girl, “figured you were too young so I got you chocolate milk” Harry smiled at the little girl who had tucked behind Jack, “Brought pastries, doughnuts—wasn’t sure what everyone liked so I got a bunch of different things.” He put it on the tray, passing out coffee to Kali and Aiden—then one to Draco, “It’s black like your soul.”

Draco grinned, kissing the stubble on his cheek, “Thank you.”

The young girl peaked her head around Jack to look at Harry. Her eyes wide, “I don’t have your chocolate frog yet.” She informed him.

“Estella!” Kali chastised. Estella was interesting—it was a pureblood name. Draco was sure the family sent her away—purebloods would _never_ keep a werewolf child.

“B-but—that’s Harry Potter.” She pointed at Harry. He had tipped the box to show Aiden what was inside. Aiden grabbed a croissant.

“That’s not Harry Potter.” Kali told her, shaking her head.

“’Fraid I am Harry Potter.” Harry said, his cheeks a bit red as he held out the pastry box. Kali looked at him with wide as eyes and with pink cheeks she grabbed a pumpkin pasty.

“I thought you were taller.” She looked horrified that she had said that out loud.

Draco snorted before he could help it. Harry glared at him, “I get that a lot. I’m not short—I’m almost five eleven—but I think everyone expects me to be really tall.” Harry dropped down with the pastry box to Estella’s height.

“I have Hermione and Ron’s—but not yours.” She said, picking out a chocolate doughnut as well. Jack was eyeing Harry curiously as he grabbed his own pastry. Harry passed the almost empty box to Draco and then reached into his auror robe pocket. When he pulled out a chocolate frog card, Estella gasped.

“It’s not as fun as finding it in a chocolate frog—but it is yours.” He said. She moved out further behind Jack and grabbed the card.

“What do you say Stella?” Kali asked, still staring at Harry.

“Thank you Mr. Potter.”

Harry smiled one of his brilliant smiles that took Draco’s breath away, “You are very welcome—and Harry is just fine.” Harry sat back down next to Draco, grabbing the last pastry in the box just as Draco bit down on his cake doughnut.

“Kali?” Aiden said with a large smile on his face.

“Yes honey?”

“Harry Potter served us breakfast this morning.” Harry turned bright red at Aiden’s pleased tone.

“And they say there’s downsides to being a werewolf.” Draco teased, making Aiden laugh. Draco leaned back on Potter’s shoulder.

“You met a werewolf before?” Jack asked Harry.

“Several, actually—mostly on the job. Not because they’re causing trouble—most of the time other people are causing the trouble. But—one of my good friends was a werewolf. He died in the war.” Harry frowned, “But his son is still alive—I’m his godfather.”

“Was his mother a werewolf?” Kali asked.

“No.” Harry shook his head.

Kali nodded, “We have found that the gene passes on if the woman is a werewolf.”

“Probably the blood sharing.” Draco said, “And transforming during the full moon—the child might not survive if it didn’t change as well. Interesting genetics though—I wonder if—” Everyone was staring at him and he turned a bit red, “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize for liking your job.” Aiden told him.

“Just a bit weird to talk about people like a science experiment.” Jack said.

“Jack!” Aiden chastised.

“Shouldn’t you be starting Hogwarts soon?” Harry asked.

“We home school.” Kali said, “School isn’t a good idea for people like us.”

“But Hogwarts has accommodations for werewolves.” Harry said. Jack looked shocked and everyone else stared at him.

“They do?” Draco asked him.

“Yeah—Remus went there, remember?”

“Yeah but—he was a werewolf when he was at school?”

“Yeah. He was young when he was bitten.” Harry looked to Kali, “If you owl McGonagall she’ll tell you everything.”

“I just—when we got the letter I told her we were home schooling.” Kali whispered.

“I could go to Hogwarts?” Jack asked.

“Yeah. They have a place for you to transform during the full moon.” Harry said as Estella walked over to Harry and crawled into his lap. Harry was quick to gather her up, keeping his coffee balanced on the arm of the seat. Harry was always good with children. Draco always felt like a fish out of water when they were around. He was never quite sure how to talk to them. He realized they weren’t _stupid_ , but he didn’t know how to not sound out of touch. Harry was always great with children, like he had grown up with the Weasley’s instead of in a closet. But in some dark place in Draco’s mind that he refused to acknowledge, he loved watch Harry take care of a child. He was always so patient, and kind. Draco watched Harry gently bounce his leg as Estelle curled up in his lap. Draco saw how scarred her thumb was and realized that she probably still sucked her thumb when she was turned. It was heart breaking.

“I had no idea.” Aiden whispered.

“Thank you Mr. Potter.”

“Harry—please. And you’re welcome. I’m just sorry Hogwarts didn’t say anything. They probably didn’t know about Jack’s furry little problem, otherwise they would.”

Jack smirked, “Never heard it called that before. My parents—my _biological_ parents— called it a lot of other things—but not that.”

“We adopted Jack two years ago.” Kali explained, “And Estella four years ago.”

“Family isn’t about blood.” Aiden said.

“I know that very well. My family isn’t blood related to me either.” Harry informed her.

“Why did your friend get bitten?” Estella asked Harry.

“His father offended Greyback—told him he was better off dead. To get revenge he bit Remus.”

“Did his parents give him away?” Estella asked, “Mine did.”

“No—but they weren’t very loving parents.” Harry said, “They were ashamed of him—even though they shouldn’t have been.”

“It wasn’t his fault.” Jack scowled.

“No it wasn’t.” Harry agreed, “I’m very glad Greyback is in Azkaban.”

“Me too—guy is a cunt—sorry.” Draco blushed, looking at Estella, “You shouldn’t say that word.”

“He’s a very bad man. He changed Daddy.” Estella said seriously.

“Who changed you?” Harry asked.

“I don’t remember. I was too little.”

Harry looked to Kali who shrugged, “Her parents just dropped her off at our door.”

“How did they know to do that?” Draco asked.

“Estella is related to me—distantly.” Kali confessed, “My grandmother was a Rosier—but married a muggle born.” Draco nodded, “They knew enough about us to know what I was—so she just dropped her off at our door.”

“I got kicked out of my family too.” Draco told Estella, “We should start a club.” She grinned.

“I have to go into work.” Harry told Draco.

“Go catch the bad guys.” Draco said, taking Estella as Harry handed her over.

“I will—see you tonight?”

“Yeah. I should be home.” Draco said. Harry kissed him chastely.

“Ew.” Estella said, making Draco laugh.

“He’s a Gryffindor—I have to make certain allowances for his behavior.” Draco told her. Harry laughed as he grabbed his coffee.

“Not everyone can be a brave Gryffindor!” Harry called right before he shut the door because he was a stupid prat.

 

Draco stopped at the bookshop in Diagon Alley on the way home from St. Mungo’s. Aiden and his family went home—and Draco might have pushed his magic a bit to get him to that point. But he could tell they wanted to go home as much as the St. Mungo’s staff wanted him out of there. He picked up a half a dozen books about werewolves and then went home.

Harry found him a few hours later hidden behind books. He had parchment spread out everywhere, taking notes.

“You look like Hermione.” Harry said with a grin.

“I hope not.” His hands went to his hair instantly making Harry laugh.

“Well—you look like her when she found a new cause.” Harry acquiesced, sitting down beside him on the floor, “Well—a bit. She would _never_ rip pages out of a book.” There were several strewn across the room.

“It’s _wrong_. Talks about werewolves like their dark creatures. So I just—took it out.” Draco said with a shrug.

“Werewolves?” Harry asked lightly, but Harry couldn’t fool him. He was about as subtle as a nest of Cornish pixies—as to say not subtle at all.

“Yeah. I started researching up on it today. I’m only halfway through the first book but it’s mostly just garbage. One out of fifteen sentences is useful, so I’ve been transcribing—and mostly ripping out pages to be honest.”

“Want me to order take out?” Harry asked.

Draco grinned, “Yes. I’m _starving_.”

“I can help too.” Harry said, pulling out his phone, “What do you want? Chinese? Pizza?”

“Chinese.” Draco said definitely. Harry nodded.

They ended up spending most of the evening going through the research Draco had. At some point Hermione came back home and joined them—eating some of their leftover food. They filled her in on what happened as they continued to flip through the books. The one that was particularly Dark, Draco saved for himself. Not that he didn’t think Hermione or Harry could handle it—but he didn’t need a speech right now on social justices. And they all agreed for the most part, so it would be counter productive.

“I’m going to head to bed.” Harry confessed around midnight.

“I probably should too.” Draco said, cracking his neck. Hermione grimaced at the sound.

“This makes me feel like I’m in school all over again.” Hermione said with a sigh, “But yes—I’ll go to bed too.”

Draco and Harry walked back into Draco’s room. Draco carefully put his clothes away while Harry just stripped.

“I should have grabbed my overnight bag.” Harry said with a groan, “I have to be at work in the morning.”

“You could just go home now.”

Harry looked at him, “A-are you kicking me out?”

Draco furrowed his brow as he slid into bed, “No—I was just saying you could floo home, grab your bag and come back. You’re a wizard.” Harry fell back on the bed and Draco looked down at him, “Are you alright?

“Yeah.” Potter said, but he still looked a little lost.

“I’m not a mind reader Harry—or I could be I guess if I get my wand.”

“No.” Harry shook his head, “Just—had a bit of a weird day.”

“Ok.” Draco plopped back down his pillow, “Night Harry.”

“Night.” Harry said softly back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me on Tumbler at Caedes12! I like saying hi to people.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter, unless you find heart warming fluffy things in need of a warning :D

Draco had taken over an empty office on his floor. Well—it was really an empty patient room, but they never used it. It was too small to get Healer staff in the room plus the patient if anything went wrong. His research was spread out everywhere, but all organized.

“Draco?” Winston knocked on the door.

“Yeah.” Draco turned to him.

“Heard you were working on a project.”

“Maybe.” Draco said, staring out at all the work.

“A lot of work for a maybe—are those ripped pages?”

“Most books on werewolves are trash—I ripped out the pages that were baseless opinions.” Draco scrunched his nose.

“I heard what happened to with the werewolf last week. You haven’t made any friends.”

“I’m not here to make friends—I’m here to save lives.” Draco retorted.

“Many people were raised with horrific stories of werewolves—you can’t blame them.”

“People blame me for hating muggles, and the stories my parents told were awful. I don’t think that way anymore.” Winston was quiet, thinking as he looked through the materials.

“If you make this a study—it will rock the boat.” Winston said.

“I know.”

“I don’t think you do.” Winston’s tone was unyielding, “You will never run the Dark Arts floor.” Draco startled, looking up at him, “I know your ambitious Draco of course I know you want to run this floor.”

“And this project will ruin my chances.” Draco said.

“Not conclusively—but probably. St Mungo’s will give you the money to fund research—they can’t afford the bad press not to, but don’t expect the board to help you take over the Dark Arts floor.” Draco bit his lip, turning back to his research. Winston was right. The board was full of—cautious—healers. Despite how far things have come, werewolves were still viewed as monsters, “I wanted to warn you before you got too far.”

Draco bit his lip, “Did you walk away from a project to become head Healer of the Dark Arts floor?”

“Yes. My job is mostly to schedule healers, manage people, instead of researching. I get to choose which cases I help with, however. And I didn’t get to where I am by being a shit healer.” Draco nodded. He did like that idea—he liked being in charge.

“If you want a different perspective—talk to Healer Taylor.” Healer Taylor was famous in the medical world. Her techniques for healing wounds had already been put in textbooks. She was incredible.

Draco scrunched his nose, “She is a bit—”

“Of a bitch?” Winston finished, “Yeah, she has a reputation but I don’t think yours is too far off.” Draco couldn’t help but preen a bit, “Yeah, she has the same reaction you do when I tell her she’s unpopular. Slytherins.” He rolled his eyes, “Let me reach out to her, and then set up a meeting between you two.”

“Ok.” Draco nodded, “I’d like that.”

 

Draco walked out of the floo in his own apartment, finding Hermione sitting at the bar with case files strewn across the table.

“Potter here?”

“No.” Hermione said, Draco scrunched his nose.

“He was acting weird the other day—since his birthday party.” He said, leaning over her shoulder to see what she was working on. Harry had a small party for his birthday because his friends wouldn’t let it pass without celebration. Hermione told Draco that the Dursley’s never celebrated Harry’s birthday, so they were making up for it. It was a small get together, where Draco invited his friends for the first time to hang out. He figured since it was a public place, nothing too bad could happen. He was right. Blaise and Greg got along great with everyone, but Theo and Pansy seemed determined to stick up their nose. Harry had an excellent time, which was the most important part.

“Hm.” Her hum was non-committal.

“You know why that is.” It wasn’t a question.

“Your one year anniversary is coming up.”

“It’s August—we got together end of October.”

“Yes—but you two haven’t had any meaningful conversations about your future.” Draco couldn’t help his eyes getting larger and how his entire body nearly shut down in a panic. Harry was—was Harry thinking about proposing? “Harry had the same reaction you are.” That actually made Draco relax a bit.

“You are pushing us before we are ready.” Draco said, “Just because we don’t move at a whirlwind pace—” He smiled to let her know he was teasing, “Well, you two have been together for a few years—maybe give us a chance to catch up.”

“I want to move in with Ron.” Hermione confessed. Draco felt like he had been stabbed in the heart. He was quiet, silence stretching on for a while.

“Is this because I’m with Harry?” Draco asked.

“Yes and no.” She scrunched her nose, “Their lease ends in September—Harry is moving to Grimmauld Place. He actually asked Ron to come with him, but Ron is ready for his own place and asked if I would do it with him.” She smiled.

Draco smiled back, “I am very happy for you.”

Her smile got bigger as a tear slipped out, “I—I’m so excited, but I’m sorry I’m leaving you.”

Draco laughed, “You can still come over—I’ll make you dessert.”

She frowned, “Ron doesn’t make desserts.”

“I don’t know who is going to cook for you either.” Draco said seriously, and Hermione laughed, pulling on his arm. He acquiesced, wrapping his arm around her and hugging her tightly.

“I told Harry—it’s probably why he was acting weird. He doesn’t like lying and I asked him not to tell you.”

“Let’s not talk about scar head. I want to hear about where you’re looking to live.” Draco said. Hermione lit up like a Christmas tree. They hadn’t done anything other than research, but Hermione had a few ideas. They wanted something a bit more in a wizarding area—a two bedroom flat for visitors.

Draco opened a bottle of wine as they chatted. Hermione pulled out her list of things she was looking for in an apartment. They poured over it, mostly speculating over what she would do. It was late in the night when Hermione grabbed his arm.

“Living with you was one of the best experiences of my life.” She told him solemnly.

“You’re drunk.” He accused, nodding to her nearly empty wine glass.

“Tipsy.” She acquiesced, “But it’s still true. I have loved every moment of living with you.”

“Even when I started sleeping with your best friend?”

She laughed, “Even then. I’m just sorry for how I acted.”

“I forgave you.” Draco said.

“I know—but it changed things.”

Draco nodded, “It did. Maybe it eased the way for this transition.” Hermione frowned but Draco continued, “Just don’t act that way when I start sleeping with your other best friends.” Draco said with a grin.

“Oh? Who are you going to sleep with next?” She asked with a laugh.

“Ron.” Hermione laughed until tears came down her face.

 

Draco cleared up the glasses after Hermione went to bed, adjusting the elastic of his pants as he pattered around the kitchen. He realized he was putting off going to bed. He pinched the bridge of his nose before climbing into the floo. He wasn’t surprised to find Harry’s apartment dark—it was a bit after midnight. He pushed open Harry’s door and took a moment to stare at him. He was sleeping on his stomach, Hedwig fluttering her wings while the phoenix had tucked his head away for some sleep. He was wearing pants with brooms on them—positively ridiculous. Draco rolled his eyes as he slipped into bed, curling up close to Potter.

“Hm.” Potter groaned, “What?”

“Nothing. Go back to sleep Potter.” Draco told him, pulling him closer.

“Did you come over just to snuggle?”

“Don’t use that _word._ I hate you. I’m leaving.” Draco went to get back up, but Harry pulled him back. Draco didn’t fight it too much. Harry kissed his shoulder, draping a leg over top of him, “Is there something you want to talk about?” Draco asked.

Harry let out a sigh, “I come over to your place a lot.”

“Yeah?” Draco was confused where this was going, he was hoping Harry would confess about Hermione.

“Sometimes I feel like—I don’t know, that you might not want to see me and I’m just always there.”

“Did—did I do something to make you think this?” Draco asked, looking down at Harry.

“N-no—but you’re not an easy man to read Draco. I just want to make sure I’m not smothering you.”

“Who said I was smothering you?” Draco turned to look at Harry.

“I—does it matter?”

“No.” Draco said, “I like coming home and finding you there. It’s comforting. I like that you’re comfortable enough to do it.”

Harry scrunched his nose, “So you’re not going to break up with me?”

“Break up with you? Potter? Where is this coming from?” Draco sat up, looking at Harry.

“You know at my birthday party—I was talking to Theo and—he just said you—he just made me think that you might break up with me.” Harry stuttered, he looked ashamed, “Said this stage is when you break up with people, so I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Then I talked to Mione about it—and she said we hadn’t really had serious conversations about our relationship.”

“Potter—Harry.” Draco said exasperated, “I don’t want to break up with you—at all. I just found out Hermione is leaving me, so I would rather you not leave me too.”

“Did she—did she say the same things to you she did to me?” Harry asked.

“Yeah—about the future.” Draco said, “The way she said it—I thought you had talked to her about proposing.”

“WHAT?” Harry cried out, looking to him, “It’s not that—Christ—I mean—I do want to be with you but—er—”

Draco laughed, “I had the same reaction.” Harry relaxed, plopping down next to him.

“I’m sorry Hermione is leaving you. Ron is a prat that is ditching me too.”

“I do find comfort in your misery.” Draco said, and Harry laughed. Draco put his head on Harry’s chest, “I can come over here more.”

“No—no. I was—I knew I shouldn’t listen to Theo. I don’t know why I let it affect me.”

“We all are insecure sometimes.” Draco told him, “Next time just come to me sooner—then we can talk it out.”

He felt Harry nod, his fingers running through the hairs at the nape of Draco’s neck, “Can I take you somewhere?”

“Right now?” Draco asked.

“I can in the morning—you have to go in tomorrow?”

“No. I have work stuff I have to talk to you about too—but right now I’m tired.”

“Ok. Tomorrow then.” Harry kissed his head, “Night Draco.”

“Night Harry.” Draco whispered back, running his fingers along the script _expecto patronum_.

 

When he woke up a few hours later to screams, his heart jolted. The sun was just peaking through the windows when he turned to Harry.

“ _Please no_.” Harry hissed through clenched teeth, “ _Hermione no!_ ”

“Harry!” Draco called loudly to him. Draco found out the hard way one time not to try to shake Harry awake. He had gotten punched in the jaw. Draco found yelling out to him worked best—helped him keep his distance, “HARRY!” Draco yelled for the fifth time. Harry woke up, his green eyes a bit crazed for a second.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” Harry groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“Don’t be.” Draco kissed his shoulder, “They’ve been pretty bad recently.”

“It’s the long hours—and the traveling. I haven’t been able to get on a schedule.” Harry explained. He had been traveling a bunch recently. Draco had hardly seen him since the ministry ball in May, “I’m sorry.”

Draco gently pried a hand away from Harry’s face and kissed his lips. No words could reassure Harry when he was like this—Draco had tried to say every comforting thing and he would just brush it off. Draco found physical love was the only thing that pulled him out of it. It took a few tries, but eventually Harry started participating in the kiss. He pulled Draco close, which was when Draco backed away.

“You alright?”

“Yeah.” Harry said weakly.

“Alright then. Can you take me now?”

“Take you?” Harry asked.

“Not like that—you wanted to take me somewhere last night.” Harry stiffened, “That alright?”

“Er—yeah.” Harry sounded nervous, “Probably better to do it now anyway.”

“What should I put on?” Draco asked, curious, “I came in just my pants.”

“You took the floo in your pants? What if Ron was awake?”

“Then he would have seen me in my pants.” Draco said, and Harry laughed.

“Alright—let’s go. You can borrow clothes.”

“I could just go home real quick.”

“We’re not going anywhere with people.” Harry told him, “And I like seeing you in my clothes.”

“Get me a comfy shirt.” Draco requested, holding onto him as Harry tried to slip out of bed.

“A Cannon’s shirt?”

“Fuck no.” Draco threw a pillow at him as he walked into the closet. Harry’s laughter was cackling as he threw clothes at Draco. It was one of his worn pair of jeans that Draco loved. He pulled them on over his boxers, they were a bit big but not too bad. The t-shirt smelled just like Harry and was softer than any t-shirt Draco had ever owned. He pulled on the grey t-shirt and looked down at the front, “Son of a bitch.”

“You look great.” Harry said with a vindictive smile, wearing jeans and an Auror t-shirt. Draco’s shirt had the crest of fucking Gryffindor on the front.

“You’re an evil prat.” Draco said just as Harry kissed his lips.

“Come on.” Harry pulled him along, “I promise you won’t be seen.”

“Shoes?”

“Um—you left a pair in here the other day.”

“Brilliant.” Draco looked to where Harry pointed. They were one of his casual pair of loafers, so he wouldn’t look ridiculous.

“Ready?” Harry asked, he looked a bit antsy and nervous.

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s go.” Harry grasped his arm and Draco prepared to be apparated.

 

It was a bit chilly early in the morning; Draco rubbed his arms up and down as they stood on a random street in London.

“Where are we?” Draco grumbled.

“Watch.” Harry said, pointing at a row of houses, “This is number 12 Grimmauld Place.” As soon as Harry said it, Draco watched the town homes eleven and thirteen slowly move.

“This is the place you’ve been renovating—the Black House.”

“Yes.” Harry nodded.

“Has anyone seen it yet?”

“No—you’re the first.”

Draco grinned, “Well let’s go in then.” Draco took long strides up to the front door, “Want to see if you’ve completely ruined the place.”

“I hope not.” Harry sounded a bit self-conscious, so Draco figured he should ease up on the teasing. Harry pushed open the door, stepping in as Draco followed. He stopped before he could help it.

The first floor was beautiful—not at all like he remembered. It had been a very long time since he had been at Grimmauld place, but he remembered the small and dark entrance hall. That was now all gone. The first floor was completely open. There was a new floo installed on the main floor with beautiful wooden floors. The walls were a warm mustard yellow color. It still smelled like saw dust and fresh paint. There was a sectional facing the floo with a two rather large arm chairs that perfectly complimented the couch. There was still work to do decoration wise, but it looked like a work and progress.

“Holy shit Harry.” Draco said. Harry was red, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Still waiting on a lot of the furniture, and I’m putting together a gallery wall.” He pointed at the large amount of picture frames lying on the floor, “Trying to get them laid out before I put it on the wall—but do you want the grand tour?”

“Yes.” Draco said, “Did you knock down a wall here?”

“Yeah. That was before I got Walburga off the wall—you can’t imagine the screams when she heard me knocking down the wall.” Harry shook his head, “The wall used to stretch all the way down, but I figured it should just be one open floor.” They walked downstairs into the kitchen where Harry explained how he ripped out all the old cabinets and upgraded all the appliances. He explained how he magically enhanced the pantry to be a lot larger—which he confessed he got help from Hermione.

“The kitchen used to be over there.” Harry pointed by the stairs, “But I wanted more counter space to cook—so I had it take up this wall instead since I moved the floo upstairs.” The cabinets were a beautiful off white color that complimented the greyish blue cabinets of the island. Brownish grey granite shined in the light and was perfect for lots of cooking, “I moved the island out further than what is usual; but I was reading advice from professional chefs and they said if your kitchen is a hub and you have people helping you it’s always better to have more space.”

“This kitchen is a wet dream.” Draco said and Harry laughed, “You should put the wine glasses in that one.” Draco pointed to the glass door cabinet.

“I haven’t gotten that far yet.” Harry confessed, “Come on, let me show you the rest.”

They walked up to the first floor where Harry showed him another large sitting room—this one would have a muggle telly. It looked a bit less formal than the one downstairs. This floor had a small room Harry said he was going to make an office, or maybe a guest bedroom. The next floor had two rooms and a bathroom that had been completely renovated. The larger one Harry claimed would be a guest room, the other room was small, so he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with it yet. The next floor had three bedrooms. Harry talked about how he replaced all the crown molding to match the original. He joked about how moldy the cupboard used to be, but now looked ready for fresh linens. The last floor was his converted Master bedroom. It had once been Sirius and Regulus’s rooms, Harry told him. It had clearly been difficult for get rid of things that belonged to his godfather.

Harry had knocked down the wall between the rooms and made one large bedroom. There was a blow up mattress on the floor with an old sheet and ratty quilt thrown across it.

“Sometimes I sleep here if I work too late.” Harry confessed, “And I could show you the attic—but it’s just a bunch of crap I’m working my way through.”

“This place is beautiful Harry.”

“Thank you—a lot of the furniture comes in this week. It will be nice to sleep on a bed when I’m here.”

“You think you can move in October?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, “Electricity is running right—that was a bitch to figure out with all the wards but I got it eventually.”

“This place is incredible.” Draco said. Harry still looked fidgety, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Thanks—only took five years.” He said, then smiled a bit, “I think cleaning this place out took the entire first year—so maybe four years?”

Draco smiled, “Maybe the next house will only take three years.”

Harry laughed at that, “I’m only leaving here if I’m leaving London.” He confessed.

“Some house in the countryside?” Draco asked.

Harry half smiled, “Probably.”

“I can’t decide if I want a nap or breakfast.” Draco confessed, his hand to his stomach.

“That’s what you get for waking at five thirty on a Saturday.” Harry said as he blushed.

“Breakfast then nap?” Draco asked.

“Move in with me.” Harry blurted out. Draco stepped back out of shock, he couldn’t tell if his heart was beating too fast or not at all, “Sorry—I didn’t mean to—

“Ask?” Draco finished, feeling like he was in a dream.

“No, I meant to ask—just not like that.” Harry was bright red now—Draco didn’t know he could get that red with his skin tone, “I like waking up next to you, and I like making dinners with you.”

“We haven’t been dating for a year yet.”

“I know it’s a bit fast—but I still want you.” Harry grinned, “And if you move here there’s no lease agreement. So if we hate each other in three months and you want to leave—you can. Or you can move to another floor and I’ll probably never see you.”

Draco smiled briefly, trying to digest it. He couldn’t believe he didn’t see this coming. But he tried to think back how many nights they had slept alone—and it was hardly ever. Unless Harry was away on a case.

“I would like to move in with you.” Draco said before he could over think it.

Harry’s entire face lit up, “Really?”

“Yes.” Draco said, his entire body heating up with giddiness, “Can’t believe it—but yes.”

Harry tackled him. Draco was laughing into his kiss, muttering half complaints about barbarians as Harry kissed his face. They had thankfully landed on the blow up mattress, so it wasn’t as painful as what it could have been. Harry had a ridiculous smile on his face.

“We’ll have to break in every room in this house—it’s going to take forever.” Draco said.

“Let’s break this one in.” Harry said, already pulling of Draco’s jeans, “Fucking love my clothes on you.” He growled into Draco’s stomach, yanking his pants off. He took Draco into his mouth while he was still half hard. Draco groaned, putting his hand on Harry’s head.

“Fucking hell.” Draco gasped, “Take off your jeans—do you have lube?” Harry sucked hard on Draco’s cock before coming off of it with a pop. He reached off the side of the bed and grabbed a bottle on the ground.

“You have lube here?” Draco asked as Harry quickly took off his jeans and pants.

“Yeah, for my other boyfriend.” Harry said, slipping two fingers inside himself. Draco growled at Harry’s laugh as he sat up, pulling Harry close. He poured a bit of lube into his hand before replacing Harry’s fingers with his own, “Oh fuck yes.” Harry groaned.

“There better not be another boyfriend.” Draco said as he sucked on Harry’s neck.

“He’s a dildo—and definitely doesn’t feel as good as you.” Harry said with a grin.

“Sentimental prat.” Draco said, working in three fingers.

“I’m ready—I want to ride you.” Harry said, pushing Draco down. Harry’s brow scrunched up as he lined up Draco’s cock. There was a look of relief on his face as he slid down. Draco grabbed Potter’s shirt and tossed it to the side as he rocked on Draco’s cock.

Harry shoved him back down on his back, gaining a steady pace. He arched backward, rolling his hips. Draco didn’t know how Harry managed to feel so hot, but Draco was sweating as Harry bounced up and down on his cock. Draco grabbed Harry’s cock, stroking it in time with his pace. He was surprised when Harry leaned over and pushed up Draco’s shirt.

“Not coming all over Gryffindor.” Harry groaned, making Draco laugh.

“But you’d come all over Slytherin.”

“ _Fuck_ yes. Right there.” Harry said, his cock swelling in Draco’s hand a bit right before he came. Draco moved his hands to Harry’s hips and fucked up into him until he came. He was still coming down off his high as Harry kissed up his jaw. He must have grabbed his wand because Draco felt the cleaning spell, despite the fact that Draco was still inside of Harry.

“Fuck—my back hurts.” Draco grumbled, “We popped the air mattress.” Draco said, realizing they were on the hard ground.

“Good thing furniture comes soon.” Harry said, kissing his lips again, “Breakfast? I’m starving.”

Draco laughed, “Yeah—breakfast.” They got up and dressed as Harry rattled on the different ideas he had for decorations. They walked down the stairs and Draco walked to the room Harry wasn’t sure what to do with. It had large open windows and plenty of natural light.

“You know my werewolf research?” Draco said, interrupting Harry’s babbling.

“Yeah.” Harry said, looping his finger in one of the jean belt loops and pulling Draco a bit.

“Winston told me if I want to run the Dark Arts floor—I can’t research werewolves.” Draco said, his arms crossed. Harry nodded.

“Perception.”

“Yeah—the wankers on the board will give me funding, but they don’t want me in charge. It’s just a guess but with that plus my past.” Draco held up his marked arm, “I think Winston is right.” Harry nodded again, “But I’m meeting with Taylor on Tuesday—she’s a healer. A great one actually—has never been a boss though. She’s revolutionized Healing.”

“So you’re getting two perspectives.” Harry concluded.

“Yeah.” Draco ran his fingers through his hair.

“Even if you run the Dark Arts floor—you’re brilliant Draco. I’m sure you’ll find something to revolutionize if that’s what you want.” Harry pushed Draco’s hair back.

“Yes—but I could help so many people—I thought you would definitely want me to help werewolves.”

Harry looked a bit guilty, “I’ve learned that it doesn’t always have to be _me_ to save the world; and this doesn’t have to be _you_. If you come to resent your research project—then you won’t be much help.” Harry grinned, “I will respect whatever you choose Draco.”

“Well, I can’t make an informed decision until I talk to Taylor.” Harry nodded, kissing him again, “But—I’d like to use this room for work.”

“Your office?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you get the bigger one?”

“Because I called it.” Draco said, smirking, “Plus you hardly ever work at home.”

“I might if I had a big place.” Harry argued as they walked down the stairs, and Draco snorted, “You could have the two small rooms. One for your research—one for experiments.”

That idea had merit.

As they sat at brunch at one of the new trendy places in Diagon, they discussed decorating ideas. If Draco was going to live there, he was going to help decorate. He quickly found his tastes ran pretty similar to Harry’s. Draco was sort of surprised Harry had as many opinions as he did; he sort of thought Harry wouldn’t care. The entire breakfast, Draco had this stupid smile on his face. Sure it might be fast to move in together, but he never felt happier about a decision. He hooked his foot around Harry’s ankle as Harry explained how he wanted to arrange the furniture in one of the rooms. As per usual, Harry was tactile in his example. He had moved a coaster, sugar packets and bits of napkin to show Draco what it would look like.

Draco’s chest was so tight he could barely breathe. He felt warm from the inside out, like he would never be cold ever again. He couldn’t quite believe this was his life. Harry’s green eyes were sparkling with excitement, rushing to finish a sentence only to start the next one. Draco smiled, looking down into his lap for a moment only to burst out laughing.

“What?” Harry stopped. Draco couldn’t help but lean across the table and kiss him. He wanted his hands on Harry to make sure he was real. He slid out of the booth and dropped back down next to Harry, squeezing his hand.

“I’m wearing your stupid Gryffindor shirt. In public. And it’s all your fault.” Draco informed him.

“You look very sexy.” Harry assured him, kissing him chastely, the scruff rubbing against Draco’s cheek.

“Now explain to me what this is again.” Draco said, pointing at a bit of napkin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on TUMBLR! Come say hi so I can have friends Caedes12


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PTSD coping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS WARNINGS WARNINGS**
> 
> This chapter has a lot of dealing with PTSD. This is kind of a spoiler, but I would rather everyone know. There is nothing wrong with self care! Self care ends up helping the people you love too, so never be ashamed when you need help. 
> 
> And I know that's easier said then done. I'm going through a not so fun time in my life right now. I got a tattoo to help remind me life isn't about getting to the end happy result. Joy in the journey. 
> 
> So I guess I'm saying I wrote this chapter to remind myself too. Hope you enjoy!

Draco swirled the glass of wine in his hand a bit before taking a sip.

“Draco!” Someone called, and he turned to see Pansy with an outstretched hand, “I asked you to pass the salt and pepper.” He startled, reaching and passing it to her. It was Sunday dinner with his Slytherin family.

“You’ve been quiet.” Blaise said, “Everything alright?”

“Hermione is moving out to live with Ron.” Draco said.

“Hm.” Pansy scrunched her nose. She seemed a bit more irritated that usual. Draco hadn’t been listening when she was talking about her drama. He hadn’t really cared. His patience with Pansy was running thin. They had been friends for so long he was willing to put up with a lot. But after her behavior at Harry’s birthday party, he just didn’t know how much more he could take.

“I’m sorry Draco.” Greg said, “I like that flat too—will you be able to keep it?”

“Not with the amount he is making.” Theo answered for him, “I know a guy that can help you find a flat.”

“Your guy only deals in luxury apartments Theo. Draco can’t afford that.” Pansy said, glaring at Draco like it was his fault.

“Well, I can give you the money. You should be living in a real flat.” Theo said. Blaise still had his eye steadily on Draco, squeezing his shoulder.

“I’m moving in with Harry.” Draco confessed.

Blaise grinned brightly, “Everyone owes me a hundred galleons.”

“I didn’t take you up on it.” Greg said defensively.

“Pansy—Theo. Pay up.” Blaise said proudly.

Draco scowled, “Do you bet on my life all the time?”

“No.” Blaise said, “Just when I know I’m going to win.”

“Draco you can’t be serious!” Pansy said.

“I am.” He affirmed, downing the rest of his wine glass and turned to look at Theo, “No thanks to you by the way. Next time you try to sabotage my relationship, back the fuck off.”

“Trying to win a bet.” Theo said innocently, but a guilty look covered his face just after he confessed.

“Fuck you.” Draco growled, grabbing the wine bottle, “I’m happy with someone! Why do you two have to be fucking pricks about it?”

“You can’t get your inheritance back moving in with Potter.” Pansy pointed out.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, “I feel like I’m talking to a wall— _I don’t want their money_.” Draco said.

“I don’t even understand why you like hanging out with those Gryffindor pricks.” Theo said, “They didn’t try to talk to us at Potter’s party. Why even invite us?”

“You two sat in a corner of the bar and refused to talk to anyone.” Greg surprisingly spoke up, “I had a great time at Harry’s party.”

“ _Harry_.” Pansy screeched.

“The only person that came up to you _was_ Harry.” Greg said looking at Pansy with a scowl, “And you were rude—and you said some bull shit about Draco not liking Harry.” He glared at Theo.

Draco pushed his chair back; he wanted to get out of there.

“Sit.” Blaise told Draco, a strong arm on his shoulder, “You two can get the fuck out of my house.”

“Done.” Pansy stood up with a sweep of her robes.

“What? I didn’t—they’re fine!” Theo defended himself.

“Get out. Until you two can learn how to be real friends and apologize—get out.” Blaise pointed at the door.

“Come on Theo. My elves make better food anyway.” Pansy sniffed, her nose up as she practically dragged Theo to the floo. They were gone in a flash of green light.

“Well fuck them.” Greg said, and Draco couldn’t help but look at him with wide eyes, “I had fun at Harry’s party—honest. Harry came and talked to me too—made sure no one was mean.” He blushed.

“And fuck them for being gits when he tried to include them.” Blaise added. Draco felt like he might cry—he didn’t deserve Harry.

“I have no idea why he wants to live with me.” Draco managed to choke out.

Blaise smiled at Draco, “I can think of a few.”

“It was like watching your mum host.” Greg said.

Draco turned to him, “What?”

“Harry’s party. You reminded me of your mum at parties—when we used to go. She just always made sure everyone was having a good time—but always made sure Lucius was happy first. Lucius was a prick about it—but still.” Greg said with a shrug.

“So I’ve turned into my mother.” Draco said with a sigh.

Blaise poured more wine into his own glass and held it up, “May we only take after our parents admirable traits.”

“Cheers.” Greg said, clashing his glass a bit too hard against theirs but it thankfully didn’t break due to charms.

“Draco?” A voice called.

“Speak of the devil—you just won me a bunch of money Potter.” Blaise said with a grin. Harry looked confused but sat next to Greg in Theo’s open seat.

“Where is everyone?”

“Threw them out of the house. Apparently Theo spouted nonsense about Draco and Pansy was just being a bitch.” Blaise said, passing him a clean glass of wine.

“Everything ok?” Draco asked.

“Yeah.” Harry said, relaxing in his chair as he took his wine glass, “The Burrow was having a mellow night, so I came over here.”

“Hear congratulations is in order.” Blaise held up his glass.

Harry grinned and winked at Draco, “Until he kills me a few weeks later for not keeping the pantry organized.” Blaise snorted a laugh and Greg cackled, “But maybe Draco can start hosting your Slytherin nights sometimes—we have plenty of space.”

“You’re not moving to a flat?” Greg asked.

“No—I inherited Grimmauld Place, the old Black house.”

“Well you did well for yourself Draco.” Blaise teased.

“I’m with the Savior of the Wizarding World—I think I did very well for myself.”

“Hullo.” Theo had stumbled out of the floo. He looked at Harry, “I’m sorry I was a prick—I was being a bitter arsehole.” Then he looked to Draco, “I—I am sorry. I promise I won’t do that again.” He huffed, “Please don’t leave me alone with Pansy.”

“Come sit.” Draco popped the chair Pansy had been sitting in. It was a bit awkward as he did, “I expect a ridiculously expensive housewarming gift.”

Theo laughed, “You got it.”

 

Draco knocked on Taylor’s office door. They were originally supposed to get tea according to Winston, but Taylor changed it last second to meeting at her office.

“Come in.” She called, so Draco opened the door. She was nose deep in a spell that was looking at the cellular level—a spell she invented. Draco wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at, but didn’t have time because she quickly closed it, “You’re Draco?”

“Yes.” Draco answered. She pushed away a bit from her desk on a wheelie chair and took off her glasses. Her hair was braided back severely into a tight bun, her brown eyes sized Draco up.

“Your reputation precedes you.”

“Good or bad?” Draco asked.

“Depends on your perspective.” She said, crossing her legs, “You’re known for being difficult to work with—but any healer worth their salt should be. One of the youngest Healers to be published on the Dark Arts floor is no small feat either.” She didn’t sound overly impressed, and Draco was suddenly reminded of Snape. He could make an accomplishment sound like a burden, “Why are you here?”

“Perspective.” He answered honestly.

“Winston did not give me the details.”

“I’m looking into werewolf research.” If she was surprised she didn’t show it, “If I do that, the likely hood of me running the Dark Arts floor decreases significantly.”

“It’s a simple question—do you want power or do you want to change lives?” She asked.

“I could do something revolutionary as head Healer on the Dark Arts floor.” He argued.

She frowned, “Maybe—but would you find that rewarding?”

“Have you ever regretted it?”

“No. Not once.” She said confidently, “But it is lonely work. You are on your own on this. I work a rotation in sometimes, but there are a lot of hours where you don’t talk to anyone else.” Draco nodded, “And of course, if you’re an absolute idiot you won’t find anything and it will just be a colossal waste of time.”

“Yes, that is what I’m trying to avoid.” Draco said flatly, which made her smirk.

“Do you like working with people?”

“I do—if they’re not idiots. My bedside manner doesn’t win me any points.”

“I spend most of my time buried in books and researching is why I ask. If you like working with people daily, research is not the best avenue.”

Draco nodded as she continued to point out some of the downsides of researching. They talked for a while; Taylor asked more about Draco’s research and what direction he wanted to take it. He ended up with more questions than answers, but it was excellent. His mind was already going in a thousand different directions when he walked out of her office.

 

Draco wasn’t quite sure what woke him up as he rolled over in bed.

“Draco?” Harry whispered his name.

“Yeah.” It was the middle of the night.

“I—can you walk with me?” Draco looked at him; he was as tightly drawn as a bowstring, his eyes were blown wide out and his hands were shaking, “You don’t have to—”

“Yeah. Of course.” Harry had never asked Draco to walk with him before. Draco wasn’t quite sure what to do with Harry. Harry’s nightmares were relentless and Draco felt powerless to help. He might have slipped down to the psychiatry ward to get some pamphlets on PTSD. Which would have been helpful, but they were all more geared to Harry. _So you have Nightmares? What is PTSD? Five Ways to Cope with PTSD?_ None of them were entitled _So Your Lover has PTSD_. It was infuriating, “Let me get clothes on.” Draco rolled out of bed, grabbed joggers and a sweatshirt. Harry was pacing as he put his clothes on, so he tried to move quickly.

Draco tried to watch Harry discretely as they started walking. Nearly a block or two in, his hands stopped shaking so intensely but they didn’t stop. Harry was nearly sprinting he was walking so quickly and Draco struggled to keep up. He didn’t know how to ask him to slow down a bit or if he should. It was like he had been invited to a sacred ritual—a terrible one. Draco remained quiet, walking with Harry until his legs ached. It had to have been at least a half hour before Harry’s pace slowed a bit. Draco was sweating and wishing he had thrown on a long sleeved before his sweatshirt.

“Harry?”

“Not ready yet.” Harry said, his tone cold. Draco nodded, feeling like Snape had just chastised him as they continued to walk. Draco let his mind wander, going through information about basic healing, letting his mind go through the pattern of it. They continued to walk, but Draco didn’t really think about it much.

Sun was just starting to peak over the horizon when Harry finally sat down on a park bench. Draco carefully sat down next to him. His heart was in his chest a bit, Harry felt like a ticking time bomb that he had just ignored. His magic still felt a bit volatile.

“Harry.” Draco whispered his name, “We can’t keep this up.” There was a loud crack of a stone splitting and Harry flushed.

“I’m fine.” He snarled.

“It—it’s ok.”

“I’ve done this before!” He yelled, standing up.

“I-I know that.” Draco stuttered, trying to remain calm, “But you’ve had nightmares seventeen of the past twenty one days. And that’s when I started counting—

“You’re keeping tabs on me! A fucking experiment?”

“No—no that’s not what I mean. I’m just trying to help.”

“Help poor broken Harry because he can’t fucking help himself.”

“That’s not what I said. I looked at some materials—”

“And now you’re researching me.” Harry’s tone was icy cold.

“No I’m not!” Draco snapped—“Well, yes I am! Because you’re not doing anything!”

“You have no idea what I’m doing!” Harry yelled back.

“No. I don’t. Because you won’t tell me how to help you.”

“By staying the fuck away from me.” Harry disapperated with a crack.

“Fuck.” Draco grumbled, running his fingers through his hair, “That did not go well.” He did not have his wand and he was at least a mile from home, “ _Fuck_.”

 

It took him ten minutes to get home because he wasn’t going to sprint it after walking the past three hours. He walked into the apartment and grabbed a glass of water.

“Harry?” He called out. He walked into his room and scowled—all Harry’s stuff was gone, “Fuck.”

“Everything alright?” Hermione asked, looking bleary eyed and well rusted the fucker.

“No.” Draco huffed, moving to the coffee pot, “I tried talking to Harry—his nightmares have been awful.”

“Let me guess—he went off on you?” Hermione said, sitting down.

“Disapperated and left me on a muggle park bench.” Draco growled, putting in the coffee filter and dumping grounds into it, “We went on a walk for three hours—I tired to talk to him but—he went off.”

“He is sensitive about it.”

“No shit Hermione.” Draco snapped as he poured water into the coffee pot. He looked out of the corner of his eye and watched Hermione deflate, “Fuck. Sorry. I’ve been up since three.” He said with half a smile, pressing the power button on the coffee pot.

“It’s alright.” Hermione said with a grin, “You should have seen Harry when I tried to get him to go to counseling right after everything. It was—he had a hissy fit but I dragged him there by his ear.”

Draco rubbed his face, “I didn’t say it right. I told him I had done some research—it made him feel like an experiment. And I _know_ he is sensitive—I should have waited until later to bring it up. I’m just _worried_.”

“I know you are.” Hermione said softly, “How often have they been happening?”

“Nearly every night.”

Hermione furrowed her brow, “How long?”

“Three weeks—five weeks.” He corrected. He only started counting days after awhile. He ran his fingers through his hair, “I got to get to work.”

“Talk to Harry after your shift—you’ll feel better.” Hermione advised.

 

It was a long shift. He got there at seven in the morning and barely had time to eat. He was ravenous when he finally stole some time away at one.

“What’s wrong?” Sammy asked, plopping her tray down next to Draco’s, “You’ve been acting weird all day.”

“I’ll figure it out.” Draco said with a sigh.

“I’m sure you will.” She grinned.

“Fucking Hufflepuff.”

“Hey—this Hufflepuff saved your butt today.”

Draco grinned, “Yes you did.” She _had_ saved his butt. Winston had been doing a presentation on new Dark Arts information and Draco had nearly dozed off. It was only thanks to a swift elbow to the ribs that he was able to stay awake and answer whatever question Winston had asked.

“You know you can come to me with a problem Draco. I swear I won’t talk to anyone.” She looked at him with big brown earnest eyes.

“I know you won’t talk. Hufflepuff’s are loyal.”

“They are.” Sammy said, a twinkle in her eye, “You tried to make that sound like an insult.”

“You’re being sentimental.”

“I’ll take that as a complement.”

“It wasn’t.” Draco said with a scowl.

“Take some cake. It looks like you need the chocolate.” She pushed over a piece of chocolate cake.

“I need that.” Draco groaned, “Thank you.”

“Now you owe me for two things.”

Draco laughed, “Very Slytherin of you.”

“I think you’ve showed me how to embrace my inner Slytherin.” She said with a sigh and Draco laughed again. It felt good to laugh. It eased the tension in his chest and helped him the rest of the day. The closer it got to leaving, Draco felt the anticipation burn. He was going to track Harry down if it killed him. He would go to the ministry if that’s what it took.

 

“Harry and Ron’s Flat!” He announced in the floo and spilled out onto the carpet. It was quiet, “Hello?” There was a sound coming from Harry’s room so Draco walked toward it. Draco opened the door and found Harry sitting on the ground in the corner of the room. He had his back pressed against the wall, his wand in his hand. Harry’s eyes were a bit too wide. He looked pale and sweaty.

“Harry?” Draco said his name softly and Harry flinched but otherwise didn’t respond. Draco moved slowly to his side, trying not to make any sudden movements as he sat down on the ground next to him. He was in his auror robes, so he had gone to work at some point, “Harry?”

“Hm?” He sounded twitchy. It was the only way Draco could describe it. Like one thing could either set him off into hysterics or a rage. Draco knew he couldn’t help—he couldn’t fix this. He had no idea where to begin. If he were bleeding—Draco would know exactly what to do. He’d know the first two spells he would start off with in order to get a gauge on the injury. This—this he couldn’t even begin to diagnose.

“Can I floo call your therapist?” Draco asked softly.

“Yeah.” Harry’s voice was strained, but the admission nearly broke Draco’s heart. Harry never liked to ask for help, “Her information’s there.” He made a jerky motion toward his bed. There was a piece of paper on the comforter.

“I’ll go call her.” Draco assured him, moving to stand up. He did so slowly, still trying not to scare Harry as he moved to the bed. Her floo information was written in chicken scratch handwriting. He was sort of nervous to leave Harry, but he did to go back out to the floo.

“Meredith?” He called into the floo hesitantly.

“Yes?” A middle-aged woman stepped into the flames.

“I—I’m Draco Malfoy—Harry is having—he’s sort of having an episode.” Her face furrowed immediately.

“I’m coming through.” Draco backed away so she could step through the floo. She looked to be in her early forties, her hair cut at her shoulders.

“What happened?” She asked.

“He’s been having nightmares consistently for about five weeks.” Draco said, “We fought this morning—I came home to him sitting in the corner his room.”

“Paranoia—he wants to see everyone coming at him—all entrances and exits.” She explained, her eyes were concerned, “He hasn’t seen me in a few weeks.”

“Why?”

“He does this sometimes—tries to be ‘normal’—that’s the word he uses anyway.” Draco nodded, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He hadn’t realized he was shaking with adrenalin until that moment. Emotion was balled up in his throat and it hurt to swallow.

“I—I don’t know what to do.” He tried to make his voice sound even, but it quivered a bit at the end.

“Come on.” She said softly.

“He won’t want me in there.” Draco shook his head.

“He does—even if he doesn’t. Come on.” She said again, walking toward Harry’s room. They walked into the room and Harry immediately looked frightened and then covered his face in shame.

“I’m sorry!” He said. Meredith sat on the ground on one side of Harry, so Draco sat down on the other, “I’m sorry. I’m so _stupid_. I know—you always tell me to come see you and I thought—I was doing well.” He mumbled into his hands that covered his face.

“You were doing well because you stuck to your schedule.” Meredith said calmly, “And you can do it again.” She added. Draco wasn’t sure what to do, but he sat there, “Want to tell me what’s going on?” She asked.

“Yaxley slipped away again. We almost had him.” He told her, and Draco froze, “It’s classified information—you can’t tell anyone.” Harry warned him.

“I’ve kept worse secrets.” Draco informed him, which made Harry laugh but it sounded more like a sob.

“You know when you hunt Death Eaters you become more susceptible to nightmares.” Meredith said gently.

“I know.” Harry banged his head against the wall, “I know.”

“What set you off today?” Meredith asked.

“I fought with Draco this morning.” Harry started squeezing his legs so tightly his fingers turned white, “I-I tried to go to work but I—I couldn’t breathe. I push people away when I’m like that and—

“I’m not going anywhere Potter.” Draco said sternly, “Not because of this anyway.” It was quiet for a moment.

“Harry, now is probably a good time to tell him.” Meredith urged. Draco scowled and turned to Harry.

“Aleksander—Alek—broke up with me because he couldn’t deal with the PTSD.” Harry said to the floor, “He wanted me to quit the aurors so I’d stop having nightmares.” Harry shook his head, “I _love_ my job.”

“I know you do Harry.” Draco whispered, “But you need to take care of yourself. It’s not fair to you or Pope—or anyone at the department. You taking time to talk to Meredith and being on a sleep schedule makes you a better auror. And everyone benefits when you’re at your best.”

“Sounds like a smart man.” Meredith said softly.

“We both know I wasn’t going to be the smart one in the relationship.” Harry said and Draco smirked, knocking his knee against Potter’s. Harry moved his hand to Draco’s, interlocking their fingers.

“How’d you get home today?” Draco asked.

“Walked.” Harry said. It was a hefty walk from here to the ministry, but it said something to Harry’s mental state that he didn’t think he could apparate, “Pope sent me home—I should apologize to him.”

“You can later.” Meredith said softly.

“I know you can’t tell me everything about your job.” Draco started, “But I want to know if you’re doing something dangerous—well, more dangerous than usual I guess. And I know you’re allowed to talk about _some_ details.” Harry nodded, “I like knowing about your life Harry. And contrary to popular belief, I do care about your mental and physical wellbeing.”

“Harry doesn’t like to show people when he’s upset because he _thinks_ it’s disrespecting those around him. Since he _won_ , he should be happy all the time.” Meredith told Draco.

“I’m a moody, insufferable prat most of the time.” Draco teased Harry, “It would be hypocritical of me if I minded.” Harry smirked, looking up at Draco for the first time. The look Harry gave him knocked the air out of his lungs. He didn’t think anyone had ever looked at him like that. Draco squeezed Harry’s hand.

“You sure you still want to move in with me?” Harry asked.

Draco laughed, “You’re not going to be the worst roommate I ever had.”

Harry snorted, “Merlin I hope not.”

“You can always chop off your nose and try.” Draco teased, and Harry’s shoulders relaxed even more. He put his legs down on the ground as he laughed, opening himself back up.

“Draco—do you mind if I speak with Harry for a bit?” Meredith asked, she had a smile on her lips.

“No—I’ll make something for dinner.” Draco said, kissed Harry’s temple and then left the two of them to chat. He cast a charm over the room so he wasn’t tempted to listen in before going into the kitchen. He perused the refrigerator and pulled out things to work with before starting to make dinner. Draco figured he should make plenty since Ron would be home soon and he wasn’t sure if Meredith would stay for dinner. Comfort food seemed best. He had burgers, roasted potatoes, mac and cheese and a salad all going by the time Meredith walked out of Harry’s bedroom.

“Harry?” Draco asked.

“Taking a shower.” She said. Draco nodded.

“Thank you for coming over on such short notice.” Draco said.

“It’s what I’m paid to do.” She smiled brightly, “Harry is not as demanding as he thinks he is.”

“I know.” Draco agreed.

“I told Harry this—but I would like to see the two of you again.” Meredith said carefully. Draco could see she was analyzing his reaction, “I think it would be beneficial to you both.”

“I’ve been to therapy before.” Draco said, “I wouldn’t mind going with Harry.”

“He mentioned you stopped going.”

Draco furrowed his brow, “Is that why he stopped? Because he knew I had stopped?”

“I don’t think he thought about it quite so literally—but I think it was a contributing factor. He doesn’t like being dependent on therapy.”

“B-but he isn’t—not really. And his job is insane. Most people would be permanently in St. Mungo’s with what he’s been through.”

“I agree with you—but Harry needs to learn that in his own way.” Meredith smiled, “I may resort to beating it into him.” It made Draco laugh. He liked her brown sparkling eyes and easy demeanor. It made Draco feel like no problem was too big to conquer, “Do you mind me asking why you started going to therapy? And why you stopped?”

“I started going because I was suicidal.” Draco told her, “I stopped while in Healer’s school. No reason really other than I felt like I had run my course. Not saying I couldn’t fall back into those thought spirals again, but I know how to cope with them better now.”

She nodded, “I think you both going will help you communicate better with Harry when he isn’t coping. And maybe some of the same in return.”

Draco nodded, “I’m not adverse, I did end up enjoying therapy. Blaise dragged me there originally—then Hermione.”

“She’s a terrifying woman.” Meredith said.

Draco laughed, “Yes she is—will you be staying for dinner? I made plenty.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah—I made you a burger.”

“Perfect.” She grinned just as the front door opened.

“Fuck it smells good—Meredith. Is Harry alright?” Weasley looked pale—paler than usual anyway.

“Harry will be out in a bit.” Meredith said, “He’s doing better now.” Weasley nodded, turning around to look at the kitchen.

“There enough for me?” The Weasel asked.

“Yes—keep your grubby hands away!” Draco smacked him with a salad tong.

“One potato.”

“Not until Harry gets out.” Draco smacked him again.

“I’m excited to try your cooking—Harry’s said nothing but great things.” Meredith said with a grin.

Draco looked at Weasley, “It’s weird she knows so much about me.” Meredith laughed.

“I know.” Weasley was shaking his head, “It’s weird.”

“I’ll tell you something about myself.” Meredith said with a grin, “I met Harry at a charity dinner for Access to Wolfsbane three years ago.”

“So you weren’t Harry’s first therapist?”

“No—nor his second or third I’m afraid.” She frowned, “Some of my colleagues were too eager to sell stories to the press.” Draco frowned—no wonder Harry trusted so few people with his story. People who were paid to keep their mouth shut still couldn’t.

“Save some for me?” Harry asked, walking out and looking freshly showered.

“Waiting for you.” Draco informed him.

“Finally.” Ron groaned.

“You wouldn’t have left anything.” Draco accused, pointing tongs at him before placing them back in the salad, “Plates are there—everyone can eat.” Draco grabbed food and sat down at the table, Harry sat down in the chair next to him. His hand was on Draco’s leg instantly and didn’t move away the entire meal.

 

Later that evening, Harry was naked and curled up on top of Draco. Draco rubbed his slightly sweaty back, his other hand buried in his hair.

“Harry?”

“Hm.” He grunted, sounding exhausted.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Draco said. Harry propped himself up on one elbow, leaning up a bit so he could look at Draco

“You don’t want to leave your apartment?” Harry asked, looking a bit panicked.

“No! That’s not what I meant.” Draco shook his head, “I just meant I’m not going to walk away—you know—from this relationship.” He felt a bit awkward as Harry stared down at him.

“Even if I make you walk around for three hours in the middle of the night and then yell at you when you try to help me?”

Draco smiled, “Even then. I’m not that flighty—I’m actually sort of stubborn.”

Harry kissed him, “I know you are. When I think you’re going to leave me, it has nothing to do with you. It’s always my insecurities.”

“Insecurities that you keep to yourself until you explode.” Draco pointed out.

Harry nodded, “We need to talk about our emotions more in general—we aren’t very good about doing that.” Draco reluctantly nodded. It was true for him too, even if he didn’t want to see anything wrong with it.

“My father didn’t like it when I showed emotion—unless it was scorn.” Draco told him. Harry nodded against his chest.

“I understand.” Harry whispered, “I was trained not to talk because of my Aunt and Uncle.” Draco tried not to stiffen but he couldn’t help it—Harry hadn’t spoken about them since their weekend away nearly a year ago. He was dying for more information, “I learned quickly crying to them would only get me the cupboard.”

Draco ground his teeth for a second before taking in a breath, “Father used stinging hexes—if I cried I just got more.” Harry squeezed Draco’s middle tighter, like his hug could protect him from all the bad that had ever happened.

“I hate that he did that to you—but I like that you understand.” Harry’s words went to Draco’s core. He wanted to murder the muggles that hurt Harry—but he too was glad Harry understood. Draco pulled Harry closer, tightening his hold on Harry’s hair. Harry kissed Draco’s shoulder, “I’m not going anywhere either.” Harry whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self love is so important! Just to say it again :) And come say hi on Tumblr, I'm Caedes12. I love new friends. And I like to talk behind the scenes a bit if you want to take a peak into my writing process.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some drama and some fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOSH GUYS! You had so many kind words after my last chapter. My pithy replies don't really show the depth of my gratitude, but I am so very grateful. And for also saying hi on my tumblr! I like feeling more connected to everyone. So thank you, thank you, and thank you even more. All the hugs. 
> 
> On another note.... I think I'll have six or seven more chapters? I have four completely written and working on five. Maybe. Who knows with my muse, but I feel like this is as good of a guess as we're going to get :)

Draco bit his lip and stared at the application paperwork. His heart was pounding in his chest. Just when his breathing was starting to get out of control, strong arms wrapped around his shoulders. Harry’s kiss against his cheek was scruffy and it pulled him out of his panic.

“I can’t decide.” Draco told him, “I—I like the drama of the Dark Arts floor, I like the adrenalin rush. I like having a problem I have to solve.”

“Can you find the amount of werewolves necessary to do a study?” Harry asked.

“That’s another problem. I have to ask—but I don’t want to ask and get people’s hopes up if I beg out. That would be cruel.” He felt Harry nod, turning around a bit to indulge in a kiss. And just like that, his heart was thundering in his chest for an entirely different reason, “Can I see it?”

“So direct.” Harry said with a wry undertone.

Draco snorted, “I know you were in France this morning. Let me see your new tattoo.”

“It’s sort of three in one.” Harry said, pulling off his shirt. Draco turned around on the couch. On his right pectoral there were three tattoos clustered together. It was a key with wings, a chess piece and a small roll of parchment. The parchment piece unraveled a bit, revealing the words _danger lies before you, safety lies behind_.

“The trials—to find the sorcerer’s stone.” Draco whispered, “Right? The key you had to catch, and the knight is obviously for the chess match—the scroll?”

“The potions riddle—Snape’s idea. Hermione got us through that one.”

“Oh yes, but not a potions bottle?”

Harry wobbled his head, “I thought about it—but I sort of thought they represented each of us. And Hermione is more of the scroll.” Harry said.

“And the Weasel is a knight?” Draco couldn’t help but sound exasperated.

“He’s my best friend. Saved my life—in so many ways.” Harry was serious, so Draco kissed his chest.

“I’m not your best friend?” Draco asked, letting his fingers run along his sides.

“No.” Harry’s voice was deep with arousal. Draco kissed his chest, his fingers grasping Harry’s arse with both hands. He squeezed his cheeks sensually and kissed his chest again.

“No?” Draco asked.

“No.” Harry confirmed, “You’re my lover.” He said it in a way that made it sound scandalous with a waggle of his eyebrows; like Harry was banging the pool boy.

Draco snorted but had a grin on his face as he pulled Harry’s face down to his, “I think I prefer that title.” His lips tingled against Harry’s scruff, his kiss slow and sensual. Draco tried to sit a bit taller on his knees for leverage, pulling Harry against the back of the couch. He pulled on him again and Harry smiled into the kiss.

“Back up for a second.” Harry said, and then very gracefully leapt over the back of the couch.

“Show off.” Draco grumbled as Harry unbuttoned Draco’s shirt, “Big, stupid auror.” Harry chuckled as he tossed Draco’s shirt to the side; Harry pulled Draco’s belt loops harshly so he was flush against him. Draco flopped on his back and Harry lay down on top of him. His skin was like an inferno against Draco’s as Harry kissed him, his arms wrapping beneath Draco as Harry rutted his growing erection against Draco’s, “Off—trousers off.” Draco grunted.

Deft hands made short work of Draco’s trousers. Harry sat up a bit to pull them the rest of the way off Draco and threw them aside. Draco wrapped his legs back around Potter’s waist, pulling him flush against him. Draco loved it when Potter just had his jeans on when Draco was naked; there was something so sensual about it. His jeans felt rough against his skin, but it only added to his pleasure.

The sound of a whoosh and the floo coming to life sent Draco into a panic.

“Fucking hell!” Weasley yelled, stumbling back and hitting his head on the fireplace as he covered his eyes. Harry tried to scramble away but Draco kept him close.

“Potter!” Draco snapped, “Don’t move.” It was a compromising position but at least he wasn’t nude with an erection in front of Weasley.

“I think I’m dying.” Weasley sounded like he was about to start crying.

“It’s your own fault if you haven’t seen a proper fuck before.” Draco said, but his face was as red as Weasley’s hair.

“ _Harry_.” Weasley had both his hands covering his eyes.

“Yup. Going to my room. Got it.” Harry scooped Draco up.

“Wait! My clothes.” Draco cried out.

“I hate this.” Weasley had turned to the wall, “I can’t believe this is how it’s going to end.”

Draco grabbed Harry’s wand in his pocket and _accio’d_ clothes just before Harry shut the door. Draco threw up a silencing charm for good measure.

“Now—where were we?” Draco asked, using Harry’s shoulders as leverage to grind against him. Harry dumped him on his bed.

“Never figured you for an exhibitionist.” Harry teased, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them with his pants before crawling into bed. Draco snorted but chose not to reply.

“First thing I’m getting rid of when we move in together is this Gryffindor comforter.”

“I think it will bring our new bedroom together.” Harry said as he kissed down Draco’s neck, nibbling on his jugular. _Our bedroom_. It made Draco’s body tingle, or maybe it was because Harry’s fingers were massaging his perineum, “It’s been too long since we did this.”

“We had sex yesterday—well, blow jobs.” Draco acquiesced, sounding breathless as Harry breached him with one finger, “We had sex four days ago.” He moaned as Harry pressed his finger deep inside him, trying to open his legs more.

“No—since I fucked you.” Harry said, his voice was deep. There was a sound of a cork popping and Harry’s hands were slick. Draco hummed appreciatively.

“Let’s never wait this long again.” Draco said.

“I do like you tying me up and doing the other thing too.” Harry admitted, putting a second finger inside Draco. There was only the slightest burn as Draco started to stroke his cock.

“Ruined orgasm.” He told Harry.

“I forgot what you called it.”

“You liked it?”

“Fuck yes.” Harry groaned, twisting his fingers inside Draco. Draco moved his hand from his cock to his legs to hold himself open, “I like being tied down too. I like it when you do _whatever_ you want to me. I like being at your mercy.”

“Fuck.” Draco gasped as Harry pushed on his prostate. The steady in and out motions were opening him up with ease. Harry’s thick fingers always knew how to drive Draco crazy.

“I keep day dreaming about what surface we’re going to fuck on first when we move in.” Harry kissed down his chest, his fingers not stopping for a second, “We’ll be able to fuck on the couch and no one will interrupt us.”

“Harry.” Draco groaned. Harry took it for the plea that it was, so he pulled his fingers out of Draco and settled between his thighs. He leaned down and kissed Draco like he didn’t need air. The hand with lube on it wrapped around Draco’s back as the other hand tangled in Draco’s hair. Draco still couldn’t quite believe this man was willing to kiss him like this—like it was the only thing worth doing. Draco pulled him as close as he could with his legs, latching them behind Harry’s back. Sweat dripped off Harry onto Draco as he rocked his hips into him.

“Let me.” Harry whispered, reaching between them. He pulled away to oil up his cock before pushing the spongy head against Draco’s opening. Draco’s breath caught as Harry pushed inside in one clean stroke. The burn took the edge off, which was good because otherwise he would have come right then.

“I can’t wait until your covered.” Draco whispered, running his fingers along the tattoos on Harry’s chest.

“That won’t be for a while.” Harry said with a shy smile.

“Where do you think I’m going?” Draco asked as Harry bent back over him, wrapping both arms around his back.

“Nowhere.” Harry murmured into his jaw as he thrust. Draco couldn’t help but cry out, pulling on Harry’s hair. Harry moved his arms a bit, hooking them behind Draco’s knees so he was nearly bent in half. The next thrust sent sparks up Draco’s spine.

“Fuck.” Draco grunted as Harry pushed into him again. His strokes were deep and hard, continuously pressing against his prostate, “ _Harry_.” The headboard was banging in time with Harry’s thrusts. Draco couldn’t help his loud cry as Harry’s cock drove into his prostate. He clawed at Harry’s skin, trying to get him closer. Despite being inside him, it wasn’t close enough. Not nearly close enough.

Draco had never been in a relationship this long, and he had certainly never been in a relationship where the sex was just as good if not better nearly a year later. He wanted more. He wanted everything. His toes were clenched tightly, feeling the orgasm build from the base of his spine.

“S-so close.” Draco stuttered, arching his back.

“Ever come untouched?” Harry asked, his thrusts not easing up for a second. Draco shook his head. He never had—he _needed_ stimulation on his cock, “I have to hit your prostate every time. Am I hitting it?” Bastard knew he was.

“ _Fuck_ y-yes.” Draco sounded wrecked. His voice was hoarse, he hadn’t realized he had been yelling that much. He felt so on edge, one touch on his cock was sure to send him over. He felt like he was on a knife’s edge. Harry had woven his fingers into Draco’s, “ _Harry_ I c-can’t.”

“Yes you can.” He said determinedly.

“Please.” Draco couldn’t quite believe he was begging, and couldn’t imagine doing anything else either. He tugged on his hands. Fucking hell he was so close, but Potter gripped his hands tightly, “ _Please_.” He begged again, but Potter wasn’t listening. He was continuing his maddening pace of strong deep thrusts that sent Draco even closer to the edge than he already was. He didn’t know you could be so close and not come. His bullocks were pulled tight, his cock _hurt_.

“Come for me Draco.” Harry moaned, “I want to see you spill all over yourself.”

“I _can’t_ Harry _please_.” Draco was openly sobbing at this point. The pleasurable torture was too much.

Harry unlocked his hands, placing them on Draco’s knees to keep them open. Harry wrapped his arms beneath Draco’s back, changing the angle just a little bit where Draco _screamed_. Draco pulled on his legs as tightly as he could, not quite believing it was happening. The knife seemed to tip as his orgasm burned it’s way through him in the most exquisite pleasure. He was vaguely aware of Harry’s thrusts becoming uneven as Draco continued to come in long ropes all over his stomach. He came so hard Draco was pretty sure there was semen on his shoulder.

Draco ached from holding himself open, so he moved his legs to wrap around Harry. Harry collapsed on top of Draco, his softening cock still inside Draco as he kissed down his collarbone and licked clean the semen.

“Ew.” Draco’s voice was scratchy and weak. Harry snorted, well aware that it was sort of ridiculous to think it was gross considering how prolific he was at blowjobs.

“Want to order some Thai food?” Harry asked, kissing his jaw.

“Yeah—when I can move again.” Harry’s grin was nearly feral—Slytherin like—with pride. Draco snorted, “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.” He kissed Draco again, gently pulling out. He grabbed his wand and cleaned everything up before Draco even had to ask, “I’ll order Thai—you want your usual?”

“Yes.” Draco said as he grabbed the blanket to curl up under, “Stupid Gryffindor colors.”

“We have to go shopping for our new sheets.”

“I—you want me to?” Draco asked, “It’s your room.”

“It’s _our_ room.” Harry said clearly, “Want to go shopping for décor this Saturday?”

“Yeah.” Draco said softly, not quite believing Harry was willing to have his opinion on decorating _his_ house.

Harry grinned, “Ok. I’ll order food. Don’t stay in here forever.” He slipped on his jeans without pants and looked for his t-shirt.

“Look in my clothes, I think your t-shirt came with my stuff when I accio’d it all.” Harry nodded and looked in the pile to find his shirt. Harry smiled again before walking out of the room. Draco shook his head, pulling the sheet up to take a brief nap before food came.

 

He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew Ron was knocking on the door.

“Harry told me to get you ‘cause he’s paying the delivery guy—but I’m not going in there if you’re naked.” Ron declared.

“Coming.” Draco said, smirking a bit as he reached down and grabbed his pants and rummaged around Harry’s drawer for a t-shirt that didn’t have the word Gryffindor on it. He finally grabbed an auror t-shirt and walked out into the main room. Harry and Ron looked like they were in the middle of an intense conversation. Harry had this ridiculous look on his face.

“No fuckin’ way.” Harry said.

Draco walked around the couch to see a small black box set on the table with a diamond ring in the center.

“Fucking hell.” Draco sputtered.

“You can’t tell her!” Weasley turned a brighter red.

“When are you going to ask her?” Draco said, sitting down next to Harry on the couch.

“After we move in together—she planned a dinner that night. Figure it’s a good time to ask.”

“Potter you better not be getting ideas.” Draco said sternly.

Harry shook his head rapidly, “Nope. No ideas.” Draco smirked and squeezed Harry’s hand. He liked that Harry was adverse to the idea of commitment right now as he was. Not that he didn’t want it—he just didn’t want it _right now_.

Draco inspected the ring. He knew the shop name instantly, his mother had several pieces from the same store in Diagon. Draco also knew it wasn’t cheap.

“I’ve never cared about diamonds, but now I know a shit ton. Cut and clarity and all that nonsense.” Weasley waved his hand, “I don’t know anyone really who has had to do this—my parents of course, but that was forever ago. I had to _research_. It was awful.”

Draco snorted, “Could’ve asked me—but you chose well with this one. This shop is known for its quality.”

“You know about diamonds?” Weasley asked with a brow raised.

“Not by choice. My mother loves them. I’ve been there many times with my father trying to help him pick out something for her birthday, anniversary, mother’s day—whatever the occasion was.”

“I can’t believe you’re getting _engaged_.”

“Mione has to say yes.” Ron said with a blush, “Though she did say we could get engaged after we lived together and got her recent promotion—but I don’t think she meant so soon.” Hermione had been named head researcher on a project. It actually meant she got to do a bit less work and delegate more, which freed up more time for wedding planning.

“I can’t believe we’re old enough to be getting engaged.” Draco said.

Ron frowned, “Well, if it was up to your parents you’d already be married.”

Draco shivered, “I’d probably already have a sprog. Fucking hell. I’m glad that’s not my life.”

“I think about that a lot—if my life went as planned after everything.”

“You and Gin would be married—probably with a sprog too.” Ron said.

“I just turned twenty three—I can’t imagine having a child right now.” Harry shook his head, “Not that—I mean, it’s right for some people. Just not me.”

“You’re not offending anyone in this room.” Draco told Harry wryly, “I don’t have children—and unless the Weasel has a love child with someone stuffed away somewhere, I think you’re safe.”

“My other wife and child are in my other apartment.” Weasley said with a laugh.

“Can you imagine Hermione? She’d kill you.” Draco said, grinning a bit too widely.

“I can’t believe you’re going to propose.” Harry said with a laugh.

“Think it’s stupid?” Ron asked, his voice shaky.

“I think it’s one of your best ideas.” Draco said, “Remarkably Slytherin of you actually. She is too good for you.”

That had Weasley breaking out into a large grin, “She is too good for me.” He turned to Harry, “You really think she’ll say yes?”

“Hermione is the smartest person I know—of course she’ll say yes.” Harry said.

Draco accio’d the good bottle of firewhiskey he gave Harry for a bet he lost and a few glasses, “I believe this is cause for celebration.” They put the ring away before getting carried away with celebrating, which turned out to be a fantastic idea because all three of them got spectacularly intoxicated.

 

“How d’you always soun’ like tha’?” Ron asked, puffing on one of the newest Weasley cigars.

“Me?” Draco asked.

“Yeah—you’re as pissed as us—you jus’ soun’ so _posh_.” Ron said. He had his feet draped over the edge of the lazy boy, his head propped against the arm. He looked ridiculous and his gangly legs almost hit the floor, but he hadn’t moved in some time so he must have been comfortable.

“Good breeding.” Draco said. Both Harry and Ron chortled.

“That’s the thing—you’re family has inbred for centuries.” Ron pointed out.

“Barely— _sometimes—_ and so has yours! We’re related you know.”

“Barely—distantly.” Ron waved it off, “Can you imagine? You should jus’write that down in a- in a- note to your father next time he pisses you off.”

Draco frowned, “He’s supposed to be there tomorrow when I meet my mother for tea. Starting to bridge the gap.”

The somber mood was instant and Harry wove his fingers in Draco’s hair. He was lying against Harry’s shoulder, “Perfect time to slip ‘im the note.” Ron suggested, and all three laughed. Draco took a large sip from the firewhiskey and passed it to Potter, who then passed it to Ron.

“I can’t drink anymore.” Ron said just before his eyes rolled back into his head.

“Jus’ like that, he passes out.” Harry shook his head.

“Harry?”

“Hm.”

“Do you think I’m stupid for meeting my father again?” Harry let out a slow breath.

“I don’t think it’s advisable.” Harry said, wrapping another arm around Draco. They moved a bit so they were both lying on the couch, Draco on top of Harry. Harry was twisting a piece of Draco’s hair around his finger, “I care about you—I don’t want to see you hurt. And I think some part of you always wants to please him—and I don’t blame you for that. I just don’t want to see you hurt and I don’t think this will end well.” Harry was still stiff, so Draco prodded him a bit, “He’s popped up on the auror radar—nothing illegal that we know of, he knows how to play the line.”

“Are you in charge of his case?”

“No.” Harry shook his head, “I couldn’t with you. I have been making sure they’re playing it fair. He didn’t come up on the radar because of previous bias.”

Draco nodded, putting his head on Harry’s chest and turning a bit to kiss it before lying back down. He was asleep before he remembered making the choice.

 

He woke up to his mouth feeling like something died in it, “Fuck.” Draco groaned, his voice sounding hoarse. His mouth felt like paper. He was sweating because Harry was a fucking inferno, “Potter.” He poked his ribs.

“Fucking hell it’s hot.” Harry grumbled. Ron was snoring loudly, “I think I’m dying.”

“I’ll go get hangover potions in your room. You make breakfast and wake the yeti.”

“Little too ginger to be a yeti.” Harry said.

“He makes up for it.” Draco argued as Ron snored even louder. Harry pulled off his shirt. Draco had been sweating, but Harry was a sweaty mess.

“Want to take a shower first?” Harry asked.

“Maybe after some hangover potion.” Draco smiled, “couple showers are never as fun as you think they’re going to be.”

“We can try.” Harry said with a little smirk that had Draco’s insides tingling.

“Ok. Potion first, my head is killing me.” Draco followed Harry into his room. He grabbed a potion for himself and passed one to Harry before following him into the bathroom. As soon as the bottle hit his lips, his headache eased. He leaned back against the tub as headache slowly dissipated, his mind going through the conversation he had last night.

Harry pulled lightly on his shirt, “Gotta be naked to be in the shower.”

“Was what you said last night true?”

“About your Dad?” Harry asked.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah—I’m sorry I didn’t tell you until now—I didn’t know how.” Harry wrapped his fingers around Draco’s wrist, and it felt more intimate than a lot of touches. Draco reached out for Harry, pulling him close as he leaned into his chest. Emotion caught in his throat.

“I don’t know what to do.” Draco whispered. He tried not to sound broken, but he couldn’t help it.

“Want to meet with Meredith? That’s what I do when I can’t screw my brain on right.” Harry stiffened, “I’m not saying—you don’t have to—it’s just a suggestion.”

Draco looked up at him, “It’s a good one Harry.” Harry kissed him, pulling on his shirt. It slipped off his shoulders.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt.” Harry whispered into his lips.

“You can’t protect me from him.”

“I can damn well try.” Harry said, pulling off his own pants then Draco’s. He was quiet as they both stepped into the shower, “You are enough Draco—just the way you are.” Draco didn’t know how Harry knew the right thing to say, but he tried not to let Harry see his face as he leaned into Harry’s chest. The water hit his arms wrapped around Harry’s waist. He liked that he could stare at Prongs, shaking a bit in the water. He traced his finger along the words _expecto patronum_.

“You don’t have to see him Draco.”

“I know.” Draco whispered, looking to him, “Do you hate me for trying?”

“No. I don’t think I could ever hate you.” Harry whispered.

“You did.”

“Not—I didn’t _hate_ you. I thought you were an arrogant prick serving Lord Voldemort. But I hated Bellatrix—Voldemort— _Umbridge_.” Draco coughed a bit like her making Harry chuckle, squeezing Draco tighter, “Besides—that’s not even close to how I feel about you now.” Draco kissed him.

He sort of tasted like water from the shower as Draco closed his eyes and continued to kiss Harry. Draco grasped Harry’s arse, pulling him flush against him. Harry’s erection pressed against Draco’s hip.

Draco made an exasperated sound, “This is why I don’t like couple showers. There is nowhere to put my foot up with any sort of traction. You can’t fuck me in here.”

Harry laughed, moving Draco around. He grabbed Draco’s hands and placed them on the tile below the showerhead. At least this way Draco was still under the spray so he wasn’t cold.

“There’s no lube in here. And it washes off in water.” Draco pointed out.

“It’s like you have no imagination.” Harry said, his tone heavy with amusement as he kissed down Draco’s back. Draco felt the soap bar between his legs, thick fingers moving sensually up his thighs. The bar slipped between his cheeks and up his cock before back down again, “Put your legs together.”

“Oh.” Draco suddenly understood. Harry’s cock slipped between his thighs. Draco took one hand from the wall and wrapped it around his cock, stroking it in time with Harry’s thrusts. Harry’s cock brushed against all the right places, driving him closer with every stroke. He set a slow and sensual pace, making sure to curl Draco’s toes with every thrust. The water was a bit too cool, so Draco turned up the temperature.

“I don’t understand why you like it to burn you.” Harry said with a laugh, winding his hands up Draco’s back, “It makes your skin so red.” Draco squeezed his legs together, “ _Fuck_.”

“ _Merlin_ I wish you were inside me right now.” Draco groaned, his hand moving quickly up and down his cock, twisting a bit at the end.

“Me too.” Harry sounded like he was close, “Wait—I’ll blow you after.” Draco gripped the base of his cock tightly to keep from coming, he did so love getting blow jobs from Harry. Harry’s strokes were getting shorter and more forceful, his hands gripped Draco’s waist tightly.

Draco looked down and watched Harry’s cock right as he began to come. He groaned as cum poured out of the tip and leaked onto the shower tiles. Draco loved watching Potter’s cock twitch between his legs; his strokes slowing down as he finished coming.

“Harry.” Draco prompted, his own cock could cut glass he was so hard. Harry’s strong hands turned Draco around as he dropped to his knees.

“I would let you fuck my face, but with the water it might be best if I go at my own pace.” Harry said right before licking the underside of Draco’s cock.

“Just be quick about it—I’m close.” Draco whispered, his eyes fluttering shut as Harry took his head in his mouth. Draco put one hand on the wall, trying to steady himself. He wanted to widen his stance, but it was impossible in the narrow shower stall, “I’m glad our shower is going to be bigger than this.”

Harry groaned, “I love when you call it ‘ours’” He licked along the tip of Draco’s cock and then took just the head in his mouth.

“Harry.” He snapped, hoping he would do more than just tease. The chuckle reverberated up Draco’s spine, making it feel that much better as Harry swallowed him to the root. His breath hitched with pleasure, groaning when his head hit the back of Harry’s throat. Pleasure gripped low in his back, radiating through him, “I’m close.” Draco warned again. Harry’s answering hum took Draco over the edge. Harry started coughing pulling off Draco’s cock so Draco grabbed his cock and wanked himself through his orgasm. Cum definitely hit Harry’s shoulder as he turned, hacking a bit. Draco was still coming down off his high when Harry stopped coughing and stood up. His eyes were a bit red.

“Breathed in water?” Draco asked.

“Yeah.” Harry said, his voice high pitch before he coughed once again. Draco pulled him into the spray, winding his fingers around Harry’s back.

“I hate to say I told you so.” Draco said as he kissed Harry’s shoulder.

“You _love_ to say I told you so.” Harry teased.

“You’re right—I do.” Draco smiled before Harry kissed him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say HELLO on Tumblr... Caedes12


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parental discussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Some mild warnings of self-doubt and spiral thinking. Nothing too dramatic, just a bit because it's Draco.

Draco was more than a bit nervous as he walked through Manor wards. He still didn’t like coming, but had slowly gotten a bit more used to it. And his mother never met him in the _bad_ areas. They would have tea out back in the gardens or in the sitting room in the private quarters. An elf Draco didn’t recognize showed him to the back parlor. Not necessarily untainted, but nothing particularly bad happened in that room. As soon as Draco walked in he could tell his parents had been arguing. They looked too stiff and his mother was slightly turned away. To anyone else it wouldn’t have been much, but Draco knew them too well.

“Good afternoon Father, Mum.” He said politely, waiting until his father sat down at the table until he followed suit.

“I trust you had a pleasant morning?” His mother asked, nodding at the house elf to start serving tea.

Draco thought back to the hundreds of kisses Harry had insisted pressing all over him to ‘protect’ him after their shower. He didn’t think it would work, but he let Harry try, “I did.” His facial expression must have revealed what he was thinking about because his father scoffed. He was holding a glass of wine in his hands, looking a bit tipsier than one should at two on a Saturday.

“Anything in particular?”

Draco was unwilling to share, especially with his father there, “No—just a good breakfast I suppose. How was your morning?”

“I walked the gardens this morning. We are about to transition to winter, so I will only get to see all the greenery for a few more days yet.”

Draco ground his teeth and looked at his father, “And you?”

“I had business to catch up on.” That comment made Draco want to punch him in the face. Armed with the knowledge that he was dabbling in bad business again, Draco forcefully turned away from him to look at his mother. Why was he here again? Why did he want to do this?

“How is your research coming along?”

“I’m still stalling on whether I want to do it or not. I have all the paper work filled out and a meeting on Monday—I just don’t know if its what I want to do.”

“What are you debating on researching?” His father asked.

Draco felt his insides twist up, “Werewolves.”

“Disgusting creatures.” His father hissed, “Trying to get rid of them?”

Draco tried purposefully misunderstanding him rather than get angry, “Sort of—trying to cure it would be the ultimate goal—but curbing the symptoms is a start.” Draco said, “There isn’t much known about werewolves, so I could make a significant impact on the field.”

“There isn’t much you _need_ to know.” His father argued.

“What keeps you from doing it?” His mother asked.

Draco smiled a bit, “I like my job now. I like healing people—I like the adrenalin rush.” Isn’t this what parents were for? To help him make an important life decision? But not his parents. His parents were about as helpful as Harry’s house-elf. Hurled the same insults too.

“Well, you can always do this research bit for awhile and keep some healers hours. Surely that is not unheard of.” His mother said—it actually was a good point. He had been thinking only in terms of absolutes, “That way if you find you want to stop your research after a few years, you have kept apprised of everything.” His father looked bored. Draco took a teacup and pressed it to his lips. His stomach was uneasy, so he didn’t drink much before putting it back down.

“That sounds like a good idea, I’ll have to talk to the board about it when I present my idea next week.” Draco said.

“And how is Mr. Potter?” His mother asked.

Draco allowed himself to smile if only for a moment, “Good—a bit stressed out with everything going on—but otherwise doing well.” He wasn’t going to tell his parents Harry had been having nightmares. It was none of their business. It had gotten much better since he had been going back to Meredith and getting on a schedule, but it was a struggle.

“You look stressed too my dear.” His mother said not too kindly.

“Just with presenting my research topic and shopping for décor and moving—it’s been a busy few weeks.”

“Moving?” His father asked. Fuck. Draco shouldn’t have brought that up. He bit the inside of his mouth so hard he started to bleed. Why was he so fucking stupid? Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut? His father always said he tended to babble when stressed. Draco wanted to shake his head to get rid of the self-doubt, but he wouldn’t show any more signs of stress than he already had.

“Yes. I’m moving into a new place in October.” Draco said.

“You should have asked us about a real estate agent to help you Draco.” His mother admonished. Draco was sure he couldn’t afford whatever their person’s cost was, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

“Oh, it was already purchased so I didn’t have to worry about that.” Draco said, hoping they would move on, “This tea is quite good, is it different than usual?”

“Yes, the house elves have a new blend. I enjoy it.” His mother commented as she put her teacup back down, “Where is your forwarding address?”

“Er—” Fuck, he was starting to sound like Potter. Merlin he forgot what it was like with his parents together, “I’m not sure yet.”

“You don’t know where you’re moving?” His father sneered.

Draco couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “I know _where_ , I just don’t know the address yet. I don’t think it’s connected by floo yet—I know we will be though because there’s a floo on the bottom level.”

“You’re not in a flat?” His mother looked pleased.

“We?” Draco nearly winced at his father’s harsh tone. A cold silence fell over the room and his parents both stared at him.

“I’m moving in with Harry.” Draco admitted. His father stood up, his menacing glare making Draco turn a bit red. He wanted to reach for his wand, but knew it would only serve to piss his father off even more. His father reached around and grabbed his scalp, yanking his head back so he was forced to turn upward. Draco’s heart was pounding and he felt like getting sick. It was like he had become eleven years old all over again. Why did his father terrify him so much? His entire body was shaking and every ounce of blood had drained away from his face. He was the type of scared that he didn’t know if he was going to throw up or not, his limbs ached with fear. But he couldn’t react physically. If he responded with violence, he wouldn’t leave here unscathed.

“You will not move in with that boy.” His father hissed at him, spit landing on Draco’s face.

“You have nothing that I want—you can’t make me listen to you.” Draco whispered. Draco winced when his father moved closed to his ear, trying to move away but the grip on his scalp only tightened and yanked his head back more.

“There are other ways to get what I want.” He hissed before letting Draco go with a shove and storming out of the room. Draco felt emotion lodge in his throat, he could barely breathe.

“Please don’t move in with him.” His mother whispered, looking like she was about to cry. And that was even more heart breaking than what his father had said. Did everything he tell his mother go in one ear and out the other? Did she not _listen_ to him? He told her that she would have to respect his choices.

“I won’t be back.” His voice broke more than what he would have liked, but it couldn’t be helped. He looked down at the tablecloth and not at his own mother. He couldn’t bare it.

“Draco.” His mother whispered his name, sounding just as heart broken as he felt. A warm hand pressed against his as he stood up and he looked at her. She looked terrified.

“Goodbye Mother.” He said, taking his wand and moving out of her grasp.

 

Even though he had apparated away and landed somewhere in Muggle London, he still felt like his insides were being squeezed. He started walking with no direction in mind. He knew he stood out in his robes, but he didn’t particularly care at the moment. He just needed to keep walking. If he walked far enough, those bad feelings wouldn’t creep up. The self-doubt. The self- _hatred_.

He tried to focus on nothing but how he breathed in time with his steps. Inhale with two steps, exhale with two steps. But someone would inevitably bump him, and he would think about the look in his mother’s eyes when he said goodbye. He inhaled with two steps and held his breath to feel the burn, then exhaled as slowly as possible. He dragged it out until he absolutely had to breathe. It didn’t particularly make too much sense, but he did it over and over again with his hand pressed to his heart. Don’t think about how he sat there saying nothing when his father yanked at his head like he was five years old and not in his twenties. He tried not to think about how his entire body shut down. Why didn’t he _do anything_? Why couldn’t he _fight?_ Why was he such a _fucking_ coward? Draco focused on his steps again, trying not to step on cracks in the pavement.

Draco wasn’t sure how much time passed as he walked. His arms wrapped around himself as he kept moving. His feet began to ache, but he didn’t pay attention to it. He was vaguely aware that this usually wasn’t a habit of walking around and he must have picked it up from Potter, but he didn’t care. He wanted to be more like Harry. He didn’t want to be himself. Harry was brave and never fucking froze when he was scared. Draco didn’t want to be associated with his parents, the more habits of Harry he took on the better. The streets got busy at some point, people rushing home from work but Draco continued to walk. People shoved past him when he walked too slow, so he tried to maintain a speedy pace. It made his feet ache even more. His pointed toe shoes weren’t really meant for this much walking and were definitely rubbing his feet in the wrong way, but he didn’t really mind. The pain helped him think about something other than his self-loathing that felt a hair’s breath away.

It started to get dark as the streets started to clear of commuters. Some looked as harried as he did, others were engrossed in mobiles or other muggle things.

He watched people make their way eventually to different restaurants. Couples kissed on corners as they parted, families with small children dragged them back inside for bedtime. The pinch that had started in his feet had moved up his legs. Draco couldn’t feel anything else but pain in his legs long after the sun went down. It was excellent because he wasn’t focusing on anything else. He couldn’t feel his heart ache.

The light drizzle just seemed to add to his mood. Like the city knew Draco couldn’t breathe anymore. It didn’t seem to matter how far and how long he walked, the icy thoughts crept back into his soul.

Why wasn’t he enough?

Why didn’t they love him?

He wasn’t really sure what to do anymore, so he started walking home. He was shivering as he closed the door to the apartment building. He hadn’t realized how wet he had gotten as he schlepped up the stairs. Each slap of his shoes on the stairs sounded like water. His hands were shaking so bad it was difficult to get the key in the door, but he needn’t have bothered because it suddenly swung open.

“Draco!” Harry’s green eyes were wide with worry, ushering him into the apartment, “We’ve been looking for you for hours.”

“I’m sorry.” Draco felt empty, he wasn’t really sure what was happening as Harry started to take off his wet clothes. They fell with wet slaps on the ground, and Draco just stared at his robe. Harry had pulled out his mobile as he continued to undress Draco.

“Yeah. He came back here. I got him. Thanks ‘Mione.” He put his phone on the island.

“What time is it?”

“Nearly two A.M.” Harry answered, putting him on a chair, “You need to get warm.” Draco was shaking so hard he felt like he was convulsing. He felt like he was in a dream until the pain of taking off Harry taking off his shoes made him cry out, “Draco.” Harry sounded horrified, “Your feet.”

“I k-k-kept w-w-walking.” Draco whispered as his teeth chattered, staring at his bloodied feet as Harry carefully removed his shoes and socks. It somehow felt surreal, like they weren’t his feet. But the movement of the sock brought blinding pain.

Draco hissed, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Harry murmured, “Do you have something for this?”

“Yeah, in the medicine cupboard, the short jar with the blue label.” Harry was gone for a moment before he came back and had the small jar of ointment. He kneeled in front of Draco’s feet, kissing his knee before sitting down in front of him. It was silent as Draco sat on the chair in his boxers as Harry tended his feet. He tried to be a good patient, but he wasn’t successful, “Do I wrap them?”

“No—they need air.” Draco said. He couldn’t help but gasp as he stood back up. Harry didn’t hesitate before sweeping him up, carrying him like a bride into Draco’s room. Harry started layering clothes on him—all Harry’s clothes—then wrapped him up in a blanket and stuck him on his bed. He was extremely careful about Draco’s feet, making sure they were away from the blanket and out of harms way. The warming charms helped instantly, easing the shaking.

“Your lips were blue.” Harry whispered, holding onto Draco tightly, “Want to tell me what happened?”

Draco closed his eyes as emotion swelled up in his throat again. It burned as he swallowed, trying to tuck into Harry more than what he already was.

“Father—I-I t-told him I was g-going t-to m-move in with you.” Draco stuttered because he was still shaking as he stared at the grey t-shirt Harry was wearing and how the word AUROR was pealing a bit in some places. His fingers ran along the edge, “H-He told me n-n-not to. I said he di-di-didn’t have any s-say.” Draco’s voice caught and he waited a bit before telling the rest, “He g-grabbed my h-head—threatened me. S-said there were other ways to control me.” Draco looked up at Harry, “I don’t know what he’s going to do—but he’s going to try to kill you. I know it. Then my mom just—t-told me not to move in with you. So I walked away.”

Harry kissed his forehead. Draco’s jaw ached from keeping his jaw clenched tightly, his _teeth_ ached from how tightly he had been biting down.

“I-I—W-What if he k-kills you?” Draco asked, the tears finally spilled out that he had been trying to keep back for hours. They burned coming out and falling hot on his cheeks, “I-It’ll be all m-my fault.”

“He is not going to succeed Draco. Voldemort didn’t kill me, Lucius Malfoy certainly won’t be able to.” Harry sounded stupidly confident, which made Draco smile a bit.

He wiped his face, “Now I’m blubbering all my feelings like a fucking Hufflepuff.”

Harry laughed, kissing parts of Draco’s face that weren’t covered by his fingers, “We’re telling each other about our problems now—right? That’s what we’ve been talking with Meredith. And now if Lucius comes after me, I’ll know to run away.”

“Don’t joke.” Draco huffed, but did look at Harry from out between his fingers to see a ridiculous smile on his face, “You look stupid.”

“I’m just glad you’re home.”

“I can’t wait until we live in the same place.” Draco said with a sigh, leaning into his chest more. Boxes were piled up in his room and it didn’t quite feel like home anymore. Draco was so sure he would be miserable as he packed, but it was like as he packed his heart just fluttered to the next home. He was _ready_.

“We can go there. Our room is set up.”

Draco shook his head, “I want to celebrate our first night, not blubber in it.” He could feel Harry’s chuckle rather than hear it. Harry gripped Draco tighter, pulling him to his chest and kissing his head, “I just—I don’t understand why they don’t _see_ me.”

Harry pressed his lips to Draco’s forehead, “You are an amazing person Draco. You save peoples lives every week and work tirelessly at St Mungo’s—I’m sure John, Sherry and Sammy will agree with me. And Winston. You help Hermione all the time and you’ve donated to every charity that I’ve dragged you to this year. And that’s just—outward stuff. Teddy is in love with you—Andy can’t get him to turn his hair anything other than blonde.”

“That’s only because I talked dragons with him for _hours_.” Draco interrupted. He had gotten stuck on Teddy duty and almost panicked the last time he was at the Burrow. But Teddy had gotten out his book on dragons and _demanded_ Draco read it to him. His Uncle Charlie knew _all_ the dragons in the book. Draco knew a challenge when he heard it, and the two had been sprawled out on the floor for hours before Harry came and found him. Tipsy. The arse. Left him with a child while he was out having drinks.

“You’re only making my point.” Harry whispered, kissing the corner of his lips, “You are more kind than you give yourself credit for.”

“I don’t want to be like I was.” Draco confessed.

Harry cupped Draco’s cheek, “You’re not—and you are. You haven’t changed—this was you from the beginning. You just never tried—like a muscle you never used.”

“What if I wake up and I’m like that again?”

“I would never let that happen.” Harry promised.

Draco’s heart swelled, “Never?”

“Never.” He confirmed. Draco sighed with a smile, his chest feeling too tight. It wasn’t the words—but it was just as good as them.

“But—why can’t they see it?”

“I don’t know.” Harry whispered, tucking blonde hair behind his ear, “But you are an amazing man. And so worth while. I wish I could give you a better answer.” Draco wrapped his fingers around Harry’s wrist.

“Do you think I’m an idiot for trying?”

Harry made a choking sound, “No. Absolutely not. I—that’s why I haven’t said anything. I would try if I were you.”

“Hermione tried to get me to stay.”

“She would—and I understand why she did—but Draco. They’re your parents. I don’t blame you for trying. But I wish—I wish this didn’t happen.”

“Me too.” Draco said a little hopelessly.

“You have people who care—sometimes that’s more important than blood.” Harry said—and Draco knew he was referring to his Aunt and Uncle. He hadn’t really spoken of them since the first time nearly a year ago.

“Do you want to get under the blankets? You look ready for sleep.” Harry said.

“Not with my feet. I think I’ll sleep above the covers. I’ll be warm in these layers.” Draco promised, snuggling down into bed. Harry wrapped an arm around his waist, pressing up to his back as best he could beneath the covers.

“They’re idiots for letting you go.” Harry whispered, squeezing him tightly. Draco took Harry’s hand and wrapped it in his own before letting his eyes drift shut.

 ***

“Draco?” Harry whispered. Draco felt awful. And he wished it was just his body aching. His nose was completely stuffed and his throat felt raw. Harry was sitting on Draco’s side of the bed, dressed in his Auror robes and ready for work.

“Hm?” He tucked his legs up toward his chest.

“I put some Pepper Up on your bedside.”

“How’d you know?” Draco asked, opening on eye.

“You snore when you’re sick.” Harry said with a grin.

“I do not snore.” Draco said primly, making Harry laugh. He leaned down and kissed Draco’s chapped lips, “Don’t—I’m sick.”

“I don’t care.” Harry said, kissing him again, “You are amazing.” Harry kissed him, “Very sexy.” Harry kissed his cheek, “Amazingly talented.” He kissed his nose, “And so very worth all the trouble of keeping you.” Harry teased right before snogging him.

Draco smiled up at Harry when he pulled away, threading his fingers through Harry’s, “Do you have to go to work?”

“Hm, unfortunately. But I’ll be back early—should you go in?” Harry asked.

“I’ll go in for a few hours to get stuff done, drop off paperwork.” Draco sneezed so hard his whole body convulsed.

“Don’t do too much. I’ll be back.”

“Ugh—I need a vacation.” Draco groaned.

“Our anniversary is coming up.” Harry’s eyes twinkled, “We could run away.”

“Let’s go to a spa.” Draco said. Harry grinned and kissed him one last time.

“We’ll discus when I get home.”

“Go save the world Scarhead.” Draco could hear Harry’s laugh as he walked out.

 

When he woke up again, he wandered out into the kitchen. Hermione was home, which was surprising.

“Good morning.” She greeted.

“Not at work?”

“It’s a bit of an easy day, so I figured I’d go in if you did, or I could just work from home.” Hermione waved her hand to the piles of books on the coffee table, “I made you breakfast.”

“You made it?” Draco asked.

Hermione snorted, “Well, no. I went out and got you breakfast.” She slid him over a full breakfast of eggs and pancakes from their favorite breakfast place around the corner. They ate breakfast together and Draco felt much better about his life as he got dressed to go into work. His feet were in ridiculous amount of pain, so he had to try on a few different pairs of shoes until he found one that didn’t cripple him.

He floo’ed into St. Mungo’s and went to his desk. He was behind on paperwork and figured he wouldn’t be much help healing anyone with his cold anyway. Though he did check up on a few long-term patients before he sat down. It was nearly lunch by the time he looked up from his desk, his stomach growling. He walked out to the nurse’s station to see if Sherry was there to go down to the canteen. There were several people bunched around it, definitely gossiping over the cover of the Prophet. When he walked up, everyone stopped. There was a tightening in his stomach.

“What?” He asked.

Sammy took pity on him and grabbed the Prophet, giving it to Draco. The cover was a picture of him making out with another man.

_Death Eater Cheats on the Chosen One_

_Last night, this lucky reporter was told by a credible source that the infamous Draco Malfoy would be attending the notorious Gay Wizard Club: The Working Wand. Of course, Me, Myself and & I wanted to know more. _

_I arrived at the club and wasn’t immediately let inside. After waiting outside for nearly twenty minutes, I was let in. The inside was a seedy establishment with scantily clad men dancing on the tabletops._

_As soon as I walked in I spotted Draco Malfoy, the Death Eater was unmistakable. He was wearing a sheer black top and pants that are much too tight. He was dancing with nearly every man in the room. And though he noticed me, he seemed to pay me no mind before making out with one of the many undesirable men in the club._

_It comes to no surprise to this reporter than such a man of ill repute would not care if he were caught sucking the tongue of a man who is not his boyfriend. This reporter has reached out to both the Death Eater and Harry Potter but has received no response_.

 

Draco couldn’t breathe. He looked up at the picture again. It _was_ him. He touched his head—someone must have gotten hairs from him. He felt like he was going to pass out.

“This article is a bit homophobic.” Draco whispered, his eyes flitting back to the picture. He watched the man in his skin look directly at the camera with a smirk as he sucked the tongue of whoever the other man was in the picture.

“Draco?” Sammy called to him and he looked up.

“That’s not me—I mean it’s _me_ , but it’s not me. This picture was taken last night—I wasn’t at a club last night.” Draco shook his head, “Fuck. _Harry_.” He turned around and sprinted toward the floo. There was _no way_ Harry was going to believe him. No way. He was gone walking all night long, he didn’t have an alibi. Whoever framed him had to know that. Draco slid into the floo and announced the Ministry of Magic and got sucked up into the fireplace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW! I'm sorry. But not too sorry. Cliff hangers are so rude, but I couldn't resist. 
> 
> COME SAY HI ON TUMBLR. I like talking about my behind the scene thoughts. I'm Caedes12. Come say hi, ask me questions, tell me how much you love me for leaving you hanging. I'm prepared.
> 
> ALSO! I added a little companion piece on my tumblr from Harry's POV. It's brief, but just to entice you :)


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco finds Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments, even if you hated me for leaving a cliff hanger. No particular warnings this week.

Draco hated the Ministry. Too many people were staring at him as he walked as quickly as possible through the main entrance to the elevators. He pressed the auror floor. His heart was in his throat, and he thought he might get sick. What if Harry didn’t believe him? Why should he? And then Harry’s family wouldn’t believe him either. Draco would be all-alone. He had to do something drastic to get Harry to believe him—the only answer to that was Veritaserum. He was sure the ministry probably had some lying around—aurors definitely did.

He got out on the auror floor, bursting past three different wizards in the elevator.

“Watch it!” One yelled as the elevator doors closed.

Draco looked around on the busy floor and didn’t immediately see Harry.

“What are you doing here?” An auror Draco faintly recognized stopped him.

“Have you seen Harry?”

“Why do you want to see him?” The man crossed his arms. Another auror noticed the commotion so she came over.

“I need to talk to Harry. Please. I’ll just go to his office.” Draco tried to step around the aurors, but he was blocked in, “ _Please_.” He begged, ashamed of how broken his voice sounded. The panic was starting to wrap it's cold fingers around his heart. He had to get to Harry. If he could just talk to Harry. If he could just see Harry.

“Harry doesn’t need to see you right now.” Another auror told him.

“Yes he does.” Draco tried to move around again but there were even more aurors to block him. His heart was pounding in his chest but it felt like it didn't have enough space to beat. How was he supposed to convince Harry if they wouldn’t let him through? He bit his lip, “It wasn’t me. Please—you have to believe me.”

“That man is you.” An auror held up the Prophet picture where he had to watch himself kiss a man again.

“That man is me—but _I_ wasn’t at the club last night.”

“Polyjuice! Really! That’s your defense?” An auror scoffed, “If I had a knut every time I heard that excuse.” There was all around laughter.

“Y-you have to believe me. Please let me talk to Harry. Plus—it’s Harry’s choice to believe me or not.”

“Harry is a kind man. He wouldn’t believe you were cheating unless you were caught in the act.”

“I would never cheat on Harry!” Draco yelled, letting out a sigh, “Give me some Veritaserum.” All the aurors looked a little awkward, “I know you are bound to have some— _Accio Veritaserum_.”

At least fifteen bottles came to Draco’s feet. Some of them looked cheaper, which meant they might be watered down. So he grabbed four bottles and uncorked all of them.

“Fuck it.” Draco said right before he swallowed the lot.

“What is going on?” Harry’s voice carried.

“Fuck—I forgot how shitty this tastes.” Draco shivered in disgust before emptying the last bottle down his throat.

“Draco?” Harry walked up, “What are you doing?”

“He took Veritaserum sir.” One of the nearly twenty aurors present said.

“I didn’t do it.” Draco said, feeling drunk as he wiped his forehead, “I didn’t make out with that guy.” He walked over to the auror holding the newspaper up, “I don’t know—” His tongue caught in his mouth, “Well yes. I know that person is _me_. But it’s not actually me.” Draco told Harry, his vision was a bit wonky as he stared at the photo, “I mean—who kisses like that? I don’t think I do. Have I sucked your tongue like that? I don’t remember ever doing that if I did. It looks gross.” Draco shook his head, he was getting distracted. Someone grabbed his arm and he looked up to see brilliant green eyes staring at him.

“You took Veritaserum?”

“Yes. I was walking around last night by myself. I don’t have an alibi. Whoever wore my skin had to know that. I wanted a way to prove it wasn’t me.” Draco told him, “I’d _never_ cheat on you Harry. I don’t even think about it. Not saying I haven’t appreciated ‘nother man—or another bird for that matter. But _appreciating_ is certainly not sucking their tongue. Can you call that picture kissing? It’s not.” A strong arm was guiding him out and around the group that was huddled around. Draco couldn’t really pay attention to where he was going, “It’s tongue sucking and it looks weird—I feel weird. I don’t think I should have taken this much. My feet hurt. Harry? I don’t like spilling my guts like this in front of everyone. But I’m doing it so you believe me.”

“I know. We’re going to my office.” Harry told him.

“Ok. I don’t like it here. It feels weird. Do you like working here? I know you like being an auror ‘cause you’re Harry Potter and like saving people—but it’s so dingy. Is Robards here? I’d like to tell him that there are other people that can save the world besides you. That burly auror guy back there—he looks like he could save the world.”

“Is there an off button?” Someone asked as they moved him further.

“Nope! Not on Veritaserum.” Draco said with a giggle, “Oh Merlin—I can’t believe I just giggled. My parents would be so ashamed. Well, they’d have to be more ashamed than what they already are. Which I don’t think is possible. My head still hurts from when my Dad pulled on it—MERLIN! HARRY! HE STOLE MY HAIR!” He heard a door close, “THAT MOTHER FUCKER STOLE MY FUCKING HAIR YESTERDAY AT TEA. I didn’t know Father was willing to make out with people to get revenge on me. That’s just pathetic. Where’d he even get those clothes? That motherfucker. ”

“Draco—look at me.” Draco wasn’t really sure where he was but he looked at where the voice was coming from.

“How much Veritaserum did you take?”

“Well—three bottles were diluted—one had a few drops of pure serum. So I’m going to be spilling secrets for another hour and a half at least.”

“Why’d you take so much?” Harry sounded appalled.

“I had to have you believe me. Cause if you didn’t, then Hermione wouldn’t and neither would Andy.” Draco answered. Fuck that hurt, “I think it was to force me to go back to my parents. But I wouldn’t have done that. I would have gone to Blaise’s and probably never left.”

“Your parents want you to be a good Slytherin and come back to the nest.” A voice said, and Draco turned and recognized Pope.

“No. Parents want me to listen to them. It’s different than being a good Slytherin. I’m still a good Slytherin. It just means I’m cunning and ambitious. I’m still those things—right Harry? I plot more things than you do. I’m certain of it. I guess I think it’s true because I’m saying it.” Lips pressed against his and he knew they were Harry’s, “You taste so good. I would never cheat on you Harry. Never. I love your cock too much. Can we fuck here? I feel drunk. I shouldn’t have taken so much, that wasn’t smart of me. It was positively Gryffindor of me. I keep doing Gryffindor stuff. I blame you for that.”

“We have to get him out of here.” Harry said.

“Yeah—but he is very entertaining.” Pope smiled.

“Help me get him to my flat.” Harry said.

“Will you fuck me there?” Draco asked.

“Pope.” Harry sounded exasperated but amused.

“The article was ridiculous. Did you read it Harry?”

“I did”

“Sounded homophobic. I’ve been to the Working Wand and it is a bit seedy—but no different than any other club. She just didn’t like men walking around nude. Which is surprising, because I thought she liked men.” Draco was being pulled up.

“Draco, we’re going to go to the elevator. I need you to hold onto me.”

“Ok.”

“Try not to talk.”

“I can’t help it. My mouth is like a spigot. Just keeps on running.” His tone sounded foreign to him, like it was nearly happy.

“Pope, if he brings up anything personal just ask him another question.” Harry said, and Pope nodded, “Draco? Do you know anything about dragons?” He asked as he pushed the door open.

“Of course I know about dragons Harry. I read to Teddy about them for _hours_. But he was just so adorable—he is so serious when he asks questions. But I know dragons used to be all over the world, but now they’re confined to certain areas so they don’t hurt anyone.”

“Does Harry fuck you?” An auror shouted the question.

“Fuck off Bettried!” Harry yelled.

“Course he fucks me. Why wouldn’t he fuck me? Do I not look fuck-able? Cause I am.” Draco was barely aware of anything other than speaking the truth. Somewhere way back in his mind he was hating this, but he couldn’t even begin to keep his mouth shut as they walked to the elevator. Harry pressed the button multiple times.

“How do you keep your clothes so neat?” Pope asked.

“Takes a lot of work. Got to know all the spells. I didn’t know them till I moved out of my parent’s house—always had a house elf do ‘em. But now I know the spells. Got a book on cleaning clothes and cleaning houses. Impressed Molly Weasley with one of my water glass cleaning spells, so I am officially accomplished.” The door opened and Harry demanded everyone get out before throwing Draco into the elevator.

“That _hurt_ Harry. I like being manhandled but not like that.”

“Why is everything sexual with you?” Harry asked, running his hands through his hair as the elevator door closed.

“It’s not. It’s only sexual when I’m with you—or with some attractive people I guess. Just gets me in the mood to be randy. Like when I was at the bar and saw Charlie Weasley and came back home and we fucked. But I lied and told you I didn’t find him attractive. You didn’t believe me.”

“Course I didn’t—Charlie is an attractive bloke.”

“But you still only fuck me even though you could probably fuck him too.” Draco said happily, then frowned, “I’m worse than a thirteen year old Hufflepuff. Blubbering on with feelings ‘n such. It’s ridiculous. Tell me never to do this again Harry.”

“Oh I think I’ll find it fun again once we’re back at my flat.”

“Almost not your flat anymore.” Draco said as the doors opened, “We move in together in nine days. I can’t wait. The bed is so much better than the one I have now. I’m glad I convinced you to buy the more expensive sheets. Can’t wait to fuck you in them—

“MR. POTTER!” A reporter cried out, “DO YOU HAVE A STATEMENT?” Most of it was garbled to Draco, who was being carried by both Potter and Pope to one of the floos.

“Mr. Malfoy! What were you thinking cheating on the Chosen One?” Another reporter yelled and it came out clear as a bell.

“I DIDN’T CHEAT ON HIM!” Draco yelled back, scrambling to try to turn around, “It was polyjuice. I just took Veritaserum to prove it. So you vultures can go fuck off. Especially you Rita. You only get information from informants who _want_ to give information. Which in these cases is most likely an enemy, which means it’s most likely false information. Or at least put in a bad light. You sounded homophobic in the article. And you didn’t find it the least bit suspicious that you were notified that I was going to be there and then saw me as clear as day? I’m sure you were so pleased with yourself for being so clever, but you just walked into a trap.”

“Is it true you are on Veritaserum?” Another reporter asked.

“Yes. Why do you think I sound like this?”

“He took Veritaserum before I arrived. Several aurors saw him take it, and the serum was from Auror’s staff. He took a strong dosage to prove his innocence. I never had any doubt. Draco would never cheat on me—and Draco wouldn’t kiss like that. It looks ridiculous. Now all of you leave us alone. Please.” Harry dragged all three of them into the floo and they were gone in a flash.

“Oh. That was fun!” Draco said as they came out in Harry’s flat. Harry managed to trip, which was ridiculous, “Honestly Potter, it’s not that hard to walk out of the floo.”

“You’re annoying.”

“I am. I know it. I think that makes it worse.” Draco said as he plopped down on a couch.

“Draco? Have you ever cheated on Harry?” Pope asked.

“No. Never considered it.” Draco answered.

“Will you ever cheat on Harry?”

“No.”

“Pope this isn’t necessary.” Harry said.

“I know you wouldn’t think it is—but it’s my job to ask.”

“No it’s not!” Harry snapped, “I believe him.”

“Will you take advantage of Harry’s money? Or status?”

“Well I think it would be impossible _not_ to. Harry’s willing to spend money on me and sometimes people like me because I’m dating Harry. But I contribute too. I—I cook for him too. And—and I—and I—”

“You help me all the time Draco.”

“I do. I help him with nightmares and make sure he stays on a sleep schedule because you and bloody Robards won’t make him go home. I like you Pope but the job is your whole life, which I don’t think is the best influence on Harry sometimes. I’d like him to live to be old and not have a missing limb. Cause I’d still be with him even if he is as fucking nuts as Mad-eye and just as terrible looking, but I think we can both agree that Harry has more potential than that—Merlin Harry, shut me up. I’m sorry. I can’t help it.” Draco had tried his hardest to keep from spewing, but it was like he couldn’t find the off switch. He had turned bright red trying to keep the personal stuff about Harry to himself.

“Pope, I think it’s time for you to go home.” Harry said.

“I’m sorry Harry. I didn’t mean to.” Draco covered his head with his hands.

“I’m not mad.” Harry promised.

“He’s just trying to look out for you.” Pope said, but his expression was thoughtful, “I’ll leave you two alone then—see you tomorrow Harry.” He said before walking into the floo.

“Harry—I’m so sorry.” Draco said again.

“You didn’t have to do this you know.” Harry said, kneeling down in front of Draco, catching his eye, “I knew it wasn’t you when I saw the picture.”

“Y-you did?”

“Yes. I don’t think you realize how much of a mess you were when you got home last night. There is no way you were at a club.” Harry scoffed, “Plus, you don’t hold yourself like that. You look like your father but your stature is more of your mother.”

“You could tell that from the picture?”

“Yeah. It’s all in the shoulders, small behaviors. I’ve been staring at you since I’ve been eleven. It’d be embarrassing if I couldn’t spot a fraud by now.” Harry said, and Draco laughed.

“I have no idea how much hair he got. He could be committing crimes right now as me.”

“Your father wants me out of the picture. I don’t think he wants you in prison.” Harry said.

“It would get me away from you.”

“His desire is to get you back into the fold. You don’t have him on any paperwork as a person who could represent you?”

“No. I took him off when I started working. He couldn’t even fake my magic signature anymore.”

“Well that severely limits his power.” Harry said with a whoosh of breath, “I was concerned he might marry Astoria as you.”

Draco frowned, “He couldn’t do it, he doesn’t have the means.” Draco opened his mouth to say, _I don’t think he would do it_ —but the words wouldn’t come out. He didn’t believe them, which was extremely disheartening, “I’m scared of what he will try next.”

“We’ll survive Draco. He’s not going to break us up.” Harry told him sternly, cupping his cheek, “You know why?”

“Because you love me.” Draco answered immediately. His stomach dropped and he thought he might throw up. He couldn’t believe he just _said that_ , “I-Fucking hell. Don’t let me take Veritaserum again.”

Harry let out a breathless chuckle, “I _do_ love you Draco.”

Draco smiled back, feeling something in his heart snap into place, “I love you too.” Harry’s grin made Draco’s heart flutter in his chest and he fell that much harder. Draco laughed, it was a freeing feeling that nearly made him forget he wasn’t in control of his mouth, reaching out for Harry. His tongue pressed into Harry’s and sucked on it playfully. Harry laughed.

“It’s safe to say that isn’t either of our kink.”

Draco opened his mouth and then scrunched his nose, “I hate not being able to use sarcasm.”

“It’s your fault you took it. I didn’t believe it.”

“How’d you know it wasn’t me?” Draco couldn’t help but ask again.

“Just the same way you knew it was me.” Harry replied.

Draco tackled Harry, falling to the ground in a painful tumble. Harry winced when Draco’s elbow landed in his stomach and Draco’s knees landed too hard on the floor, “Sorry.” Draco said right before he kissed the shit out of Harry. He wanted to taste nothing but Harry on his tongue. He wanted to melt into Harry’s body. To have such a man have so much faith in him was so wonderful. Especially after his parents had just proven _again_ how much they don’t care.

“Well, I don’t know why I expected something different.” Ron said and Draco jumped.

“What the fuck?” Draco looked up at him.

“I came over here because I figured you were breaking up with him!” Ron pointed at Draco.

“It wasn’t me!” Draco cried out, “It was polyjuice.”

“Really? That’s a new excuse.” Ron looked at Harry, “You believe this shit?”

“I took Veritaserum.”

“Prove it.” Ron demanded

“Ask me a question.” Draco sat up on his elbow a bit, looking up at the Weasel.

“What do you think about me?”

“I think you have a surprisingly steady head on your shoulders considering your reputation for blowing up in anger. I like how you recognized how important I was in Harry’s life from an early start. And despite the fact that our family names mean we are supposed to hate each other—I quite like you.”

“Holy fuck.” Ron sat down on the floor, “Who do you think it was?”

“My father. Last night when he got angry with me he pulled on my scalp.” Draco said, easing up off of Harry. Harry turned to sit cross legged on the floor, facing Ron.

“I was pissed. I spent half the night looking for you only to see this mornings paper.” Ron said.

“I think that was my father’s goal.” Draco said, his cheeks turning pink at the mention of Weasley being concerned.

“How’d he know you weren’t here?”

“Temporary tracking charm.” Harry answered.

“I’m sure he couldn’t believe his luck.” Draco said acidly, looking down at his hands, “Fuck my feet hurt.” He started to untie his shoes carefully.

“I’ll get the paste.” Harry said, hopping up.

Draco knew it was going to be bad when he pulled off his shoes and there was blood seeping through his socks. His breath caught in his chest as he carefully pulled back his sock.

“Merlin.” Ron whispered, “When’d that happen?”

“Last night while I was walking.” Draco hissed as his skin stuck to the sock. He managed to pull the one all the way off, but glared at the other sock. He huffed before starting to peal the sock off. Harry came back with the paste just as he managed to pull it off, “ _Tergeo.”_ Draco murmured, cleaning up the dried blood. He winced as the spell scraped over his feet, “Fuck that hurt.” Harry motioned for Draco to sit up on the couch, so he climbed up very carefully so as to not hurt his feet. Harry placed both feet in his lap and almost reverently put the paste on his blisters. The floo went off and Hermione walked out holding the Prophet.

“He didn’t do it!” Hermione said.

“We know.” Ron answered, and Hermione looked a bit put out that she didn’t get to tell everyone as she sat down next to Ron.

“How’d you find out?”

“He took Veritaserum.” Ron said.

“It’ll be on the cover of the Prophet tomorrow.” Harry said.

Hermione frowned, “That’s unfortunate.”

“Why?” Ron asked.

“Whomever did this will try to find another way to break the two of them up.” Hermione said just as Draco started shaking as he felt the withdrawal of Veritaserum.

“You need tea.” Hermione said, marching off into the kitchen.

“We need a plan.” Harry said.

Draco let out a breath, “I think my Mum will help us.”

“She has stood next to your father through a lot.” Harry pointed out as he continued to put paste on Draco’s blisters. Hermione set out four mugs as she waited for the teakettle.

“It’s a risk. But I think she may help me. She was the one who made my father send me money. I know it’s not much to go on—but—I think she’ll help.”

“If she doesn’t you’ve risked showing your hand to your father.” Hermione said as the electric teakettle clicked off. She grabbed it and started pouring into the mugs.

“I think if it comes to that she’ll stay neutral.” Draco said, the shaking even worse, “Fucking Veritaserum. It was like this during my trial. It was so much fucking Veritaserum I completely blacked out—I have no idea what I said.”

“That’s illegal.” Hermione said as she gave him his mug and then Harry grabbed his mug from hovering near him as he stood up and sat next to Draco.

“Not at the time.” Harry said, “Legislation was still being passed that was re-writing everything Scrimgeor put in place. He was all for using veritaserum until they babbled every secret they ever had.”

Draco nodded, leaning against Harry for warmth. Harry moved around a bit so he was sitting behind Draco, his arms wrapped around him to keep him warm. The shaking eased a bit as he stretched out his feet on the couch.

“I don’t want to see that.” Ron scrunched his nose.

“It’s the fucking veritaserum. I don’t want Potter to fuck me in front of you either.” Draco said, the chattering of his teeth not quite strong enough to keep his mouth shut. Hermione cast a warming charm that helped ease it a bit more, “The watered down bottles must have had more than I thought.”

“It’s illegal for any aurors to have veritaserum.” Hermione said.

“It is.” Draco confirmed, “I accio’d it so I’m not sure who it came from.”

“One of those things that people look the other way on, unfortunately.” Harry said, rubbing Draco’s arms up and down, “Robards doesn’t care how you get a confession.”

“But—”

“I’m not arguing with you Hermione.” Harry held up his hands, “I don’t use it.”

“Does Pope?” She asked.

“No. He had a confession fall apart in his early days on veritaserum. The guy genuinely believed he had killed the girl, but apparently he hadn’t. So they had the wrong guy locked up for three years. Pope said he would always rely on evidence first after that.”

“We’re getting off track.” Ron said with a huff, “Should Draco contact his Mum on this? And even if you did, how would you contact her without your father knowing?”

“We have a secret way of reaching out. It’s how we’ve communicated for years after my father kicked me out.”

“What if your father knew but didn’t care?” Hermione said, “He’d care now.”

“Wouldn’t matter—it’s written in code.”

“You write to your mother in code?” Ron asked.

“Yes.” Draco said defensively, “I lived with Bellatrix. Of course I write in code.”

“Just send her a place to meet. We can monitor the area and control the entrance and exit points.” Harry said, “There are wards to protect the area. We can make it so only one person is allowed entry, keep it from animagus penetration.”

“Hm.” Draco hummed, letting his head drop back, “Love it when you talk auror.”

“Too much information.” Ron said flatly.

“I can’t control it.” Draco defended himself, but he didn’t feel bad.

“Have you eaten anything?” Harry asked, “That will help. And once you stop shaking you can write a letter to your mother. Want soup?”

Draco nodded, “Yes.”

“I could eat.” Ron piped up.

“I’ll make soup.” Harry said with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr! Caedes12


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting Mother on his side and figuring out a plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have to stop complimenting me so much in reviews otherwise my head will get as big as Potter's- Harry's- I've been writing from Draco's perspective too long. 
> 
> **QUESTION ABOUT WARNINGS:** So my next chapter will have all the warnings, but I haven't added them to the story tags yet. I had sort of hoped my story wouldn't go that way, but it did anyway. Would you prefer I update them now before I load the next chapter so you know what you're in for? 
> 
> I only ask because I'm concerned. I will probably end up adding them this week, but it feels like I'm giving the story away. But people should be warned. I go back and forth, which is why I wanted to know what you think.

Draco couldn’t quite believe his eyes. St. Mungo's Board had approved of his study on werewolves. The board had also approved him keeping hours on the Dark Arts floor. It was perfect. It was everything he had ever wanted. He got a private office off the beaten path, which he was sure was on purpose considering what he was studying but he was not going to complain. He had written a long letter to Aiden, asking for his help. It would all be for nothing if he couldn’t get any werewolves to join the study. Draco detailed all the risks, asking if he knew any friends that were willing to participate as well. If it didn’t work, the Ministry had a registry that Draco could go through but he didn’t want to have to break trust before even meeting a person.

Aiden hadn’t written back yet, but Draco only sent the note a few hours ago. It was everything he could do not to stare at the window and wait for an owl. But he had other things to worry about. His mother was meting him at an agreed upon location this afternoon. Harry had decked the area in wards. Apparently they were his ‘thing’. Pope had gotten involved as well—and Draco was sure a few other aurors knew. Harry didn’t want anything to happen quietly unless it all went wrong.

The Prophet had the picture of Draco kissing another man on the cover _again_.

_Death Eater Proves it was Polyjuice!_

Still a Death Eater, but at least the article was in his favor this time. It had multiple sources verify that he took Veritaserum to prove it wasn’t him in the photo. There was a smaller picture of Harry carrying Draco toward the floo. Draco actually sort of liked the photo, despite the fact that he looked awful. Harry looked fierce, his scowl deeply pronounced when he turned to the photographer and barked something.

There was a gentle knock on the door.

“Come in.” Draco called. Sammy opened the door with a grin.

“New office and soon a new apartment. You are going to be a whole new you.” Sammy placed a plant on his desk, “You should have a plant. And it’s a cactus so you don’t have to take care of it too much—and it’s as prickly as you are.”

“Your sense of humor needs work.” Draco said dryly.

“I think it’s perfect.” She said as she sat in one of the chairs opposite his desk. He had done some hunting to find the chairs. One of them had been in the attic of Grimmauld place and the other in an unused room in St. Mungo’s. They went together and were comfortable enough, “When’s the big move?”

“Next week.” Draco said excitedly.

“Everything packed?”

“Almost. Clothes are packed; all the seasonal clothing is in boxes. I have stuff for the week right now. Most of the kitchen is packed except for things I use regularly. It’s strange.”

“A bit scary?”

“Yeah—good scary though.” Draco said a bit self-consciously, looking at the paperwork on his desk.

“You need help moving?”

Draco smiled, “Hufflepuff. You should never ask that.”

She laughed, “I don’t mind helping you—I’m sure you have a detailed list of what you want moved where and everything will be boxed before everyone gets there.”

“We hired movers.” Draco said, “I wasn’t going to do that—and between Harry and I it’s not too bad. Plus then we don’t have to magic everything up the stairs. Harry just built everything, I don’t want him to have to cover a hole in the plaster already.”

“You should host a house warming party.” Her eyes lit up excitedly.

“I wouldn’t invite you.”

“I’d come anyway.” She winked, “Hufflepuff’s are very good at crashing parties. We always bring good alcohol to share and good food.”

“Well, I suppose I would just invite you for the good alcohol.” Sammy laughed.

“Let me know when you send out invites.” Sammy insisted and Draco nodded before glancing at the clock—it was nearly time, “You alright Draco? You know if you need anything that I can help.”

Draco smiled tightly, “Thank you Sammy, but this one is a bit complicated.”

“It’s not about your big bad auror boyfriend is it?” Sammy asked, “Because savior of the world or not, I’ll take him out if he isn’t being nice to you.”

Draco couldn’t help but smile at Sammy’s fierce face, “You are a better friend than I deserve.”

“Was I right?”

“No—it’s my parents giving us trouble. It was my father who pretended to be me—he polyjuiced as me.”

“Fuck.” Sammy whispered, “I’m so sorry Draco.”

“Me too. But I’m going to go talk to my Mum, hopefully figure this out.” Draco bit his lip. He had to get used to telling people this—it would all come out eventually.

“Sure you don’t need help?”

Draco grinned, “I have my big bad auror boyfriend to help me on this one.”

She laughed and turned a bit pink, “Oh please don’t tell him I said that.”

“I wouldn’t inflate his ego anymore than it already is.” Draco assured her as he started grabbing stuff he needed to take home, “I got to get going.”

“Be careful.” Sammy said, “I know they’re your parents—but—I don’t want to see you come in here.” She looked nervous about saying it, squeezing his arm slightly.

“I have the savior of the wizarding world with his golden trio, I’ll be fine.” Draco assured her.

“Ok.” She kissed his cheek lightly, “Floo me once it’s done, I’ll worry.”

“I will.”

 

Draco was shaking with nerves. They were in a small muggle park outside of London. They could contain the area well enough not to worry about being ambushed. Harry had picked it out strategically because of the limited amount of entrances. There was a small shed Harry, Hermione, and Ron would hide in so as to not spook his mother.

“It’s going to be alright.” Hermione whispered, squeezing his arm.

“I hope so.” Draco said back as Harry finished setting the wards. It was quiet, the wards knocking out the sound from the surrounding area.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to be with you?” Harry asked.

“I think my mother will be more honest if it’s just me.” Draco said.

“You will yell if you need us.” Harry told him.

“My mother won’t hurt me.”

“It’s not your mother I’m worried about.” Harry said.

“The wards?”

“They’re the best I’m capable of doing in the amount of time—but not impenetrable. There are dark spells that can be used to unravel them.”

“And my father would know them.” Draco said grimly.

“If he uses any one of them, he is breaking his parole agreement and will be sent to Azkaban.” Harry said.

“So it’s a trap.”

“Sort of—it’s also standard procedure. So I’m not going out of my way to entrap him. That would be illegal.”

“Very Slytherin of you.” Draco complimented.

“You don’t have to do that.” Harry pulled gently on his hand before weaving his fingers between Draco’s, “He’s your father. I didn’t want to get assigned to his case for that reason. You’re allowed to love him and protect him.”

“I wish I didn’t want to protect him.” Draco was looking at the collar of Harry’s auror robes.

“I don’t want to arrest him either, so hopefully this will be the end of it.” Draco and Harry both knew it wouldn’t be, but it was nice to hope. Harry kissed his cheek before retreating with Ron and Hermione back behind the shed. It was a few minutes until the meeting time, so Draco waited. When the wards shifted, he looked to the entrance. His mother was wearing a winter cloak, looking more than a bit regal as she walked through the park.

“Draco.” She greeted, pulling down her hood a bit.

“Hello mother.” He said back, resisting the urge to fix his hair.

“Why am I here?”

“I want to broker a peace.” Draco said evenly, “We both know it was father who polyjuiced as me and contacted Skeeter.”

“Draco you should not be with a man who made you take Viritaserum to prove it wasn’t you.”

“I took it without Harry suggesting it. I thought he wouldn’t believe me, since I spent that entire night out. I went to the auror office and spilled my guts in front of everyone.” His mother’s shoulders fell a bit, “Do you know what he has planned next?”

“No.” His mother admitted, “He was furious about the article.”

“Mother—this has got to stop. He _made out_ with someone to get revenge.”

“It wasn’t him, he had someone do it for him.” His mother argued.

Draco resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Semantics didn’t matter at the moment, “I just don’t understand why now? I’ve been cut off for nearly five years.”

“We never thought it was permanent until now. We both thought you would be a Healer for a decade, then eventually come back and marry a pureblood witch. You like both, Draco, I don’t understand why you couldn’t have been with a witch.”

“I’m with Harry. We’re moving in together.”

“It’s not too late to walk away from him.”

Draco couldn’t help the exasperated sound, “Mum! We’ve had this conversation so many times; I don’t know how I can reword it. This is _me_ now. I told you to put the past behind you and focus on who I am now—and you haven’t _listened_. At _all_.” He sounded a bit hysterical by the end, “I feel like I’m talking to a fence post.”

“Draco.” She warned.

“No. No.” Draco shook his head, “I thought after—when you came back you understood. But clearly it was just another lie to bide time.”

“It wasn’t Draco.”

“Then explain your actions!”

“I just wanted you to keep an open mind.”

“ _You_ keep in open mind” Draco argued tartly, “this is it, Mum. This isn’t a negotiation. I love him. The only thing you’ve proven to me is that if I don’t do what you say, I get thrown out. Harry _loves_ me.” Draco let out a harsh breath, his throat closed up a bit. His hands were shaking but he knew what he had to say next, “Either stop him, or Harry _will_ stop him.”

“You’d side with him versus your own father?”

“Always.” Draco answered softly, trying to lessen the blow.

His mother was quiet, it looks like tears were in her eyes but Draco couldn’t be sure from this far away, “We have only done what we thought was best because we love you.”

“I know you have. But you don’t know what’s best for me anymore—because you don’t know _me.”_ Draco said. He was near the end of his patience. One more circular argument and he was going to walk away. He would find out about his father on his own, “Give me a chance Mum. Give _Harry_ a chance. Please. Or you will lose me, and I will not be back. I can’t do this again, it’s tearing me apart.”

His mother blinked her eyes rapidly, looking up toward the sky. She let out a harsh breath and then took strong strides toward him, grasping his arm.

“I love you.” She whispered, clutching him tightly, “and I think it’s time I—” Her words choked a bit and she bit her lip, “I’ll play neutral.” Draco relaxed as some part of him clicked back together, wrapping his arms around his mother tightly. It wasn’t choosing Draco, but it wasn’t leaving him in the dust either. He would take it.

“What can you tell me Mum?” He asked.

“I know whatever he is planning involves St. Mungo’s.” She confessed, “I know he has help, but I am not sure how much. I’m not even sure what he is planning to do.”

“Thank you.” Draco whispered, letting her go. She nodded, squeezing his hand for another second before disapperating.

“Draco?” Harry called.

“It involves St. Mungo’s. That’s all she is willing to tell me.” Draco didn’t believe for a second that was all she knew. It might have been the only thing she was _told_ , but it wasn’t all she knew. He would take the clue.

“There are a million different things he could do.” Hermione said with a frown.

“But he wants to ruin me.”

“He’ll work off the Dark Arts floor. Ruin your reputation.” Harry said, “We got to get to St. Mungo’s.” He grabbed Draco and Hermione, “Ron.” He said before Ron reached out and grabbed him.

They apparated into the emergency room of St. Mungo’s. Draco half expected chaos and gore, but it was running like it usually did.

“Healer Malfoy.” One of the nurses greeted with a confused look, “Healer Granger.”

“This is going to sound strange—but have you seen me recently?” Draco asked.

“Yeah, you just came through about twenty minutes ago.” Draco’s eyes widened as Harry tugged him along.

“Let’s go!” Harry pulled him toward the elevators, his wand out. He pushed the button for the elevator, “Ron, go tell the auror force what’s going on. Pope is standing by.”

“Got it.” Ron disapperated. The elevator door opened and all three walked in.

“Have any idea what he’s doing?” Hermione asked.

“No idea.” Draco was too panicked to even think of something. His mind was drawing a blank. The elevator lurched. It felt too quiet. His heart was pounding in his chest. He hated waiting. He watched the elevator move up floors.

“Be ready.” Harry warned, raising his wand as the elevator stopped. The doors opened and Draco felt let down. There was nothing going on. It was quiet. He stepped out.

Too quiet.

He looked around and didn’t see anyone at the nurse’s stand. Harry pressed a finger to his lips, motioning to follow him. They moved in a line, Harry made sure rooms were cleared as they went along. When they finally got towards the end of the hall, Draco could hear someone talking. His brow furrowed as they walked back. A yell made them all stop. Harry looked intense, motioning to follow him. There was a room with its lights on. Someone was talking in the room, the soft draw Draco recognized as his own. The way he slid through words—he was very convincing. There were more screams and Draco stiffened.

“I’m going in there.” Draco moved around Hermione.

“Draco!” Harry grabbed his arm.

“I’ll provide distraction before the aurors get here, try to say details about the room loudly.” Draco told him.

“Don’t be a hero.” Harry whispered, loosening his grip of Draco’s arm.

“That’s your job.” Draco said with a wink. Harry kissed him, his hand shaking a bit as he let go. Draco mustered all the bravado he had before walking into the room.

He tried not to let what he saw shock him. Every nurse and healer working was tied up. Sammy was tied up in the center with a bruised eye and several lacerations. Draco bit down so hard he thought he might have cracked a tooth. Whoever was masquerading as Draco was better than the last time. His mannerisms were nearly perfect.

“Draco.” Sammy smiled up at him. She looked horrible, “I was telling everyone that this wasn’t you.”

“What are you doing here?” The person wearing his skin asked, holding out their wand.

“Why are you keeping fifteen people hostage?” Draco asked back, “And tied to chairs? That’s just uncomfortable.” Draco made sure he announced the information loud and enunciated so Harry could hear. The other him had his wand pointed at Draco’s chest.

“You are not supposed to be here.” The other him accused.

“I know, but I found out anyway. You are going to go away for a very long time.”

“Not if you don’t catch me.” The other him smiled, tilting his head a bit with a flutter of his lashes. Draco knew instantly who it was.

 _“Pansy_? What the hell are you _doing?_ ” Draco cried out.

“Doing what your father didn’t have the guts to do. Though he _was_ more than willing to go stick his tongue down the throat of a man at the bar. Should have known your father was too much of a pussy to do any serious damage. Like father like son.”

Guess his mother didn’t know everything. He couldn’t quite believe his father was willing to kiss another man to ruin him. “Pansy put the wand away. You—you have your whole life.”

She cackled, “Didn’t you hear? Eli wouldn’t marry me because of _you_.”

“Me?”

“You and your perfect little boyfriend. Apparently he found out I tried to turn him over to the dark lord and used it as reason to get out of the contract. No one will even consider marrying me anymore.”

“I didn’t tell Eli that!” Draco yelled.

“It doesn’t _matter_.” Pansy sounded like she was ripping apart by the seams, “You ruined it for all of us. _You_ set the example of how we should _betray_ our parents to stand up for these high and mighty principles.” She cast a hex at him that he blocked.

“So you are working with my father?”

“Your father is a fucking mess. He drunkenly told me he wanted you back at the last pureblood gathering. I told him the only way to get you back was to break you off with Potter. Of course when he asked for help, I said the only way I was helping is if _I_ got to marry you instead. He said no, of fucking course. So we negotiated another deal.” Her voice was sensual, running her arms up her body. Draco knew exactly what she meant.

“ _Why_?” He asked.

“It would hurt you. Plus if I got pregnant, then he would have to take care of me.” She looked pleased with herself, “It’s a win-win.”

“Not anymore Pansy.” Draco kept a careful eye on the way she was moving, trying to corner her. She couldn’t apparate out from this room, “Turn yourself in and I promise they will go easy on you.”

“You can’t promise shit Draco.”

“You know I can.” Draco swore. Pansy raised her wand, but they were too close. Draco launched himself at her, tackling her to the ground. Pain burst through his lip, but he didn’t pay any attention as he tried to wrestle her wand away from her.

“I’ve always wanted you on top of me again.” Pansy said with a grunt, throwing another elbow.

“Not the face!” Draco growled. She only laughed. Another elbow was thrown as well as a significant knee to the groin. Draco could only let out a gasp and try to keep Pansy from getting her wand. She had rolled on top of him. She had blood all over her face, and Draco wasn’t sure what from.

“You fight like a fucking muggle you mudblood bitch.” Pansy said. Draco had both of her hands clutched in his, trying to keep them from hitting his face. She moved down and smashed her head against his nose. Pain exploded through his face, the pinching pain made his eyes water. He could hardly think but he kept trying to keep her away from him and her wand.

“This is another fantasy.” Pansy purred, grinding down on him. Her legs had pinned his down but Draco had a grip on her arms.

“You’re delubional.” Draco said. His nose was affecting his speech. He couldn’t pronounce things correctly with the gushing blood and the pain.

“You always were such a big boy.” Where the fuck was Potter? How long had be been tumbling on the ground with Pansy? It felt like forever. There was blood everywhere, he couldn’t grip her as tightly because his fingers were covered in blood. She tried to go for another head butt, but Draco saw it coming. He maneuvered so she was pinned on the ground this time. She was laughing a bit too loudly as Draco tried to go for her wand but she knocked it further out of reach. Draco heard people moving around, but he didn’t pay attention as he tried to go for the wand. Pansy landed a swift kick to his ribs and Draco couldn’t help his yell. She managed to wrangle him to the ground again when Draco felt something poking his thigh.

“You’re harb from bis?” Draco asked, not sure why he had asked in the first place. It was disgusting. He wanted to crawl out of his own skin. More importantly, he wanted her out of _his_.

“You don’t get a rush from this?” She asked a bit breathlessly.

“NO! You bucking crazy?” Draco asked right before she swung at his rib cage again. He let out another yell as he used his left hand to punch her in the groin. She screamed in pain, but her grip was still strong.

There were suddenly spells flying from every which direction and Pansy flew off of him. Draco wasn’t sure what to do so he just lay perfectly still. He instantly relaxed as he saw auror robes rush into the room. He was safe now. Everyone was safe now.

“Draco!” Harry’s voice called to him. Harry would take care of him, “Merlin. We were trying to get everyone out before we attacked.” Harry helped prop him up.

“I neeb a healber.” Draco said. Everything hurt before, but now the pain was roaring in his ears. The adrenalin rush was subsiding and his nose throbbed.

“You’re in the right place.” Harry replied.

“I need to take him Harry.” Hermione told him.

“No! Neeb to fine my Bab—bather.” He couldn’t make an f or a d sound to save his life.

“We need to fix your nose.” Hermione said.

“Bo it.” Draco said. Hermione looked at Harry.

“We do need to find Lucius.” Harry told Hermione.

“Fine, then you need to be fixed up.” Hermione told Draco, “ _Episky_.” It felt like his nose was being broken all over again. Draco let out a cry as his nose snapped back into place, more blood going everywhere. He knew Hermione was casting other spells to clean up the bleeding as he blinked through the blinding pain.

“Fuck.” Draco said clearly, “Is this retribution for breaking Harry’s nose?”

Harry laughed, “You broke my nose, I think Pansy pulverized yours.”

“Is it back to normal?”

“Almost.” Harry said with a grin, “You look like a raccoon.” His eyes must be bruised from the break, it happened when your nose was broken with a lot of force. Hermione and Harry helped him stand and he winced at the pain in his side. Hermione cast a few more charms.

“I think your ribs are just severely bruised, not broken. But I can’t tell with the swelling.” She told him.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the same treatment.” Draco said with a slight grimace as he tried to move again. He turned to look at Pansy. There were four aurors surrounding her, Pope being one of them. Pansy was acting like a wet cat, hissing and trying to bite everyone, “She told me my father is behind this.”

“Doesn’t really matter. The only thing your father can be charged with at the moment is unlawful usage of Polyjuice. If he confesses or we use Pansy against him, if she agrees.” Harry said with a frown.

“That’s six months in Azkaban.” Draco said.

“Yes, maybe. It’s _up to_ six months in Azkaban, so the sentence might be different—Pansy will get more.” Harry said just as Pansy’s skin started to bubble. Draco had thought she looked crazy before, but as she melted back into her own skin the insanity only intensified. She had bloodshot eyes and a bloody face, and she wouldn’t stop laughing. She tried to bite Pope again but he pulled away.

“Sammy?” Draco asked.

“She’s with healers, but mostly just superficial wounds.” Hermione said.

“Was anyone else injured?”

“A few dings here and there, but Sammy got the brunt of it.” Harry told him.

“Let’s go find my father.” Draco told him.

Harry nodded, “Pope! To Malfoy Manor next?”

“I’ll meet you at the location alpha in ten minutes.” He said before dragging Pansy out of the room, assumedly to the elevator and the apparition point downstairs.

“You don’t have to go with us Draco.” Harry whispered.

“Yes I do.” Draco was staring at the blood on the floor. Not that it was unusual to see blood on the floor of St. Mungos, but it was weird that it was a Healer’s blood. This shouldn’t have happened.

“You don’t owe anyone anything.” Hermione told him, squeezing his arm a bit.

“I want him to know it was me. He never took me seriously, I just—I want him to know it was me.” Draco said, turning back to Harry. Weasley had his arm wrapped around Hermione, they both looked concerned. But Harry had his war face on. Draco recognized the stiff jaw and the hard eyes. He forgot just how brilliant Harry looked like this, or maybe he just never saw it as beautiful before. It’s the face Draco saw when he fought Voldemort in the Great Hall or when he yelled at Umbridge.

“Let’s go.” Harry held out his hand, not questioning if Draco was sure. Because Harry knew him, and knew he wouldn’t say it without being sure. Draco wove his fingers through Harry’s and then followed him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably end up asking the question in the beginning notes on my Tumblr too. And when I do warn people, I'll get REAL descriptive on tumblr so you know what you're in for/can read the Tumblr post so you can skip the chapter.
> 
> I have an in depth walkthrough of this chapter and my thoughts on Tumblr, if you want to see how I planned everything. 
> 
> But either way come say HI! I respond to questions and like making friends. Caedes12


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation at Malfoy manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS: READ THIS FIRST!! WARNINGS!**
> 
> I updated my tags during the week. But even then, I will add a warning here. This chapter contains suicide. It is described in third person as a witness. Please do not read if this if you don't think you should. I have a chapter summary that will be posted on my Tumblr ([Caedes12](https://caedes12.tumblr.com/)) if you want to know what happens without getting into the emotional side of it all. 
> 
> This chapter is _heavy_. If people still say that. It contains spiral thinking, dissociation, and all the mother fucking brain fog you can possibly imagine. 
> 
> To keep in mind, this story will have a happy ending. I don't mind giving that away. So if you can make it through this valley of death, you will see light at the end of the tunnel.

Apparating down the street of Malfoy Manor felt ominous. He hadn’t walked through the front gate since—since he had to for Lord Voldemort’s wards. Draco didn’t put much faith in omens, but he didn’t think this was a good one. He usually just apparated into the family wing and avoided all the rooms tainted by darkness.

Harry touched his arm, “You stay behind me the entire time. All right? I know you’re capable but you’re still a civilian in the eyes of the law. And I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Harry blushed a bit, “I don’t want to give anyone a reason not to trust you.”

“I’m just here so he knows.” Draco said, “I won’t try anything unless something goes horribly wrong.” He promised. There was a loud explosion and Draco turned to the house, “We got to go in.”

“Back up will be here in a minute—

“My Mum’s in there!” Draco ran toward the gate, not caring if Harry followed him or not. No sooner had the promise not to do anything reckless left his lips here he was bounding headfirst. But he couldn’t stop himself. This was his Mum. He ran through the gates with a wave of his wand to get through the wards and kept running. His heart felt like it was going to come right out of his chest as he ran toward the family wing.

“Lucius!” His mother screamed his name. She never sounded like that, he turned and bolted in the direction he heard it coming from. Draco burst into the room at the top of the stairs. His mother was standing a few feet in front of him by the steps, his father stood with a rope around his neck. The banister had been blasted open and the end of the rope was tied around the chandelier.

“Dad” Draco called out to him. The sound came from his gut and tears came to his eyes.

“I suppose you brought the aurors with you.” His father slurred, a bottle of wine was in his hand.

“You need help.” Draco whispered, “You need to stop drinking.”

Lucius pointed his wand at Draco, “Don’t _tell me_ what to do.” It was terrifying only because his father looked insane. His hair was slicked back from days of not washing it; his eyes were sunken in and looked black. His skin had lost its color and he looked too thin. His wand arm fell like he was too tired from holding it up but he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a large gulp, “I can’t live like this. In a world where I mean nothing.”

“You mean everything.” Draco’s voice cracked, taking a step forward.

“STAY BACK!” Lucius screamed, moving closer to the edge. Draco held up his hands and stopped moving, “I mean _nothing_ Draco. Have you been gone for so long you forget what true power is? To _squash_ someone’s dreams without thinking, to have people move out of your way? Now nothing _matters_.” He stumbled a bit and Draco tensed and hoped he didn’t fall backwards. It was silent for a moment, but then the wards rippled as they fell. It occurred to Draco now that when he ran in by himself; Harry couldn't get into the house without breaking down the wards. Harry had waited to let the rest of the aurors in before following Draco inside.

“You mean everything to us.” His mother said, “Please Lucius, don’t do this.”

“You can barely stand to be in the same room as me.” He pointed at Draco, “And you” He turned to Narcissa, “—you just look at me with pity. I used to run the Wizengamot. I used to make decisions.” He walked closer to the edge.

“Dad _please_.” Draco’s voice broke as he moved toward his mother. He heard the aurors outside the doors approaching. His insides started twisting and he stiffened. The aurors approaching would only make this situation worse. His father could panic and jump. Lucius looked out the archway and then turned around to look over the edge.

“I’m not going back _there_.” His father whispered, holding the rope a bit tighter. His hands were visibly shaking as he looked over the edge, “I can’t—I won’t survive it again.”

“Lucius Malfoy." At his name Lucius turned back around, "You are being charged with unlawful use of Polyjuice.” Harry’s voice was steady as he moved into the room, three aurors with him.

“Don’t come any closer!” Lucius yelled, his wand out. Harry motioned for the aurors to step back, but he walked forward.

“The max sentencing is sixth months.” Harry looked calm, but his eyes were watching everything carefully. He spared a moment to look at Draco before looking back to Lucius. Draco felt like he might get sick, his body burning with panic. He had to do something; he had to convince his father to _live_.

“They make me hear things.” Lucius said, taking a swig of wine, “Terrible things.”

“The dementors are no longer at Azkaban.” Harry told him, “You can survive this Lucius. You’ve survived worse.” Harry’s tone was almost encouraging as he slowly moved forward. Draco saw out of the corner of his eye another auror move into a position on the opposite side of the room, “Step away from the ledge. You don’t want to do this with your family here.”

“Make them leave so you can laugh at me Potter?”

“No.” Harry said sternly, “Don’t do this Lucius.”

“Dad _please_.” The words were so painful coming out that they left his throat raw. Draco didn’t realize he was crying until that moment, “I know what this is like—ok? I’ve been here. It get’s better. I _promise_ it does.”

“I’m not like you.” His father looked at him than looked to his mother, “I’m not like you either. I can’t change.”

“Yes you can Lucius.” His mother sobbed, holding her hand out, “Please just take my hand.”

“I love you both.” Lucius said, looking at each of them.

The panic was instant, “Dad no!”

“LUCIUS!”

Draco moved forward as Lucius took a step back. There were shouts from aurors as spells went to try to stop him but they were deflected as a _protego maxima_ burst from Lucius wand. Draco went flying backwards, spinning around and smacking against the floor. Just as he landed, he heard a sickening snap sound and knew exactly what it was.

“ _DAD_!” Draco went to turn but Harry was on top of him.

“You don’t need to look Draco.” Harry had him pinned to the ground as Draco sobbed but tried to get up.

“Please no! No. _No_!” Draco tried to fight him and managed to get to his knees, but Harry’s grip was too strong. He kept fighting and he could vaguely hear himself yelling, but Harry was pulling him out of the room. His mother grabbed his hand, and the look in her eyes tore Draco apart. He let out a sob, relaxing in Harry’s grasp. He couldn’t quite believe what was happening. His breathing was too loud and he felt like a rock was in his stomach.

“Come on Draco, we don’t need to look.” She whispered, pulling him with her. Harry slackened his hold. Draco thought about making a run for it since Harry’s grip was loose.

“You don’t want to see.” His mother whispered like she could read his thoughts as she gathered him close to her, kissing his forehead, “You don’t want to see him like that.”

“I’ll be right back” Harry squeezed Draco’s arm before letting go.

“I’ll take care of him.” His mother pulled him toward the small parlor room. She closed the door behind him as Draco stared. He couldn’t quite believe what had happened. Nothing felt real. His head didn’t feel attached to his body. A sickening feeling twisted in his gut almost seemed to anchor him, bring him back to reality.

He heard the snapping sound in his head again.

Draco turned toward the wall and hunched over before throwing up. His mother was rubbing his back and it brought him more to himself.

“Meryl” His mother called for the house elf.

“Mistress?” She looked up with her large eyes.

“Please clean this up.”

“Yes Mistress. Is—is there anything else Meryl can do?” Meryl looked heartbroken as she vanished Draco’s vomit.

“Water.” His mother said as she brought Draco over to the couch. Draco heard yelling from outside the room, Harry’s voice was prominent among them but he couldn’t quite tell what was being said. It was like he was under water. His body moved to the couch without him telling it to, his mother sat down next to him. She just held his hand, sobbing quietly next to him. Meryl put a pitcher of water in front of them and poured each a glass.

“Thank you.” Draco managed to say, his throat was raw from screaming. He grabbed the cup and swallowed, the lump in his throat easing a bit with the cool water.

“It’s not the first time.” His mother whispered to him and Draco turned to look at her. Her face was red, and he couldn’t remember ever seeing his mother cry like this before, “He’s tried—so many times.” She shook her head, “I—I tried to get him help but he—but he wouldn’t do anything and I just—I stopped trying.”

“It’s not your fault Mum—I didn’t stop him.” Draco let out a sob that hurt his entire body, “I pushed him here.”

“No you didn’t!” She said fiercely, “Draco—he’s been like this for years.” The door opened and both of them jumped.

Harry looked like home. Draco stood up to hug him. He _needed_ Harry. Harry gathered him up in his arms, squeezing Draco so tightly it was hard to breathe. The first sob that came out nearly ripped him in two, but the one after that was less painful. Then he couldn’t stop crying. Harry wound his fingers through Draco’s hair but kept his other arm fiercely around Draco’s waist.

“I couldn’t stop him.” Draco cried into Harry’s neck.

“I’m so sorry Draco.” Harry whispered.

“Why did he do it? Why wasn’t I enough?” Draco knew somewhere the answer to those questions. His father was sick, and that it wasn’t about Draco. But he couldn’t help but ask. Harry didn’t answer, like he knew words weren’t enough. Harry just held him and let him cry.

His legs were stiff by the time Harry moved him to the couch next to his mother. Harry conjured a hankie to wipe Draco’s face clean of snot and tears with his left hand, still holding his right hand tightly. He sat across from Draco on the coffee table, his green eyes never wavering for a moment. His mother grabbed his other hand again as soon as Draco sat down.

“He’s done this before.” Her voice sounded empty, “I’ve managed to stop him multiple times. I usually have Meryl with him all the time—to keep an eye on him but tonight I had her—she was helping me.” She wiped her eyes, “I was moving my stuff out of his room.” Draco looked to her in shock, “He needs help and keeps refusing—kept refusing help.” She stared at her hands, “I couldn’t be apart of the downward spiral anymore. I was moving my stuff to the Western wing to get away from him.” She looked at Draco, “It’s my fault—I pushed him this far. I know—I _knew_ —how fragile he was and I—” Her voice broke.

Harry grabbed her hand as well, “This was Lucius’s choice. Neither one of you are to blame.” Harry said it softly, like he was afraid they would both argue.

“Harry.” Pope called from the door and all three turned to look at him, “We need to go back to headquarters, we need to write our reports.” He looked regretful in the doorway, like he didn’t want to pull Harry away. Harry nodded and turned back to Draco.

“Want to go home?” Harry asked him, and Draco knew what home he meant. _Their home_.

Draco couldn’t help the small sob, “Yes.”

“Mrs. Malfoy, there are extra bedrooms. Please come stay with us, you shouldn’t stay here.”

His mother looked at him with wide eyes, “I—ok.”

“I have to go, but I’ll meet you at home—ok?” Harry squeezed his hand, “Take the floo, don’t apparate.”

“I will.” Draco promised, his voice sounded thick.

“I love you so much.” Harry pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I love you.” Draco managed to say as the lump in his throat grew again, making it nearly impossible to talk. Harry squeezed his hand again before letting them both go and walked out the door.

“Let me go get some things, we can take the floo in this room.” His mother said.

Draco still felt a bit like he was in a dream as he sat alone in the parlor room. The clock on the wall ticked too loudly. He grabbed his glass of water for something to do and drank from it.

His father was dead.

His glass fell out of his hand and clanked against the carpet. He was shaking as he grabbed the fallen glass, set it on the table, and refilled it again. It was like his brain couldn’t quite process what was going on, like it was muffled. Every action felt apart from his body, like a dream. He drank some water and the door opened again. He jumped, dropping his glass again as his mother walked back into the room. She had a small bag with her.

“I’m sorry.” She said, but Draco just shook his head as he grabbed the cup and set it back on the table.

“Just water.” He told her. The two walked toward the floo and stepped inside. Draco cleared his throat before throwing the powder, “GRIMMAULD PLACE!”

 

The two were quiet as they came out of the floo. His mother looked around a bit in shock, but didn’t say much of anything. The house looked even more beautiful now that it was all decorated. The massive gallery wall featured pictures from both Draco and Harry’s past.

“Kreacher?” He appeared in an instant, “Can you put my mother’s things in the master bedroom on the third floor.”

Kreacher bowed reverently, “Kreacher lives to serve the noble and most ancient House of Black.”

“And something to eat Kreacher.” His mother added.

Draco took a breath, “I don’t think—

“We should eat.” His mother said firmly, “Where do you eat?”

“Downstairs.” Draco pointed to the stairs and his mother motioned for him to go ahead. Draco walked down the stairs into the new kitchen, everything had been painstakingly arranged by Draco.

“When did you move in?” It felt a bit odd to talk about something else other than the horrible thing that just happened, but it was safe. It was more comfortable than silence.

“We don’t for a few days yet—but most of our stuff is here.” Draco explained. He walked into the pantry and grabbed crackers.

“This house looks completely different.”

“Harry did it himself” Draco said proudly. The floo roared upstairs.

“Draco?” Hermione’s voice called.

“Down here.”

She came down the steps and barreled into him. Draco wasn’t quite sure if it felt real as she held him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her, reveling in her warmth. The strong grip on his shoulders brought him a bit more to himself.

“Harry told me.” She whispered into his chest, “Draco I am so sorry.”

“I—” His voice caught and tears were in his eyes again, “none of this feels real.”

“We’ll be here when it does.” She promised, moving back a bit and looking at him, “Blaise is on his way over with clothes. Says he is going to take a bedroom until you kick him out. Molly is sending over food. I managed to keep her from coming over with all the Weasleys.”

“Why—why would she?”

“You’re family, and they love you too.” Hermione said gently. Draco nodded, he couldn’t speak. Hermione gently squeezed him again.

“Harry?” Draco asked her when he could speak again.

“Hopefully won’t be at the ministry too much longer.” She frowned a bit, “I think he’s trying to keep things out of the papers, but the Prophet caught wind.”

“Wonderful.” Draco said sarcastically, sitting down, and suddenly remembered his mother was there, “Hermione, this is my Mum.”

“Mrs. Malfoy.” Hermione dipped her head a bit, but didn’t extend her hand.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Ms. Granger.” She said diplomatically. Hermione grinned slightly, but it looked like she was trying too hard before turning back to Draco.

“This house is amazing.” Hermione told him.

“You still haven’t seen it?”

“No. Harry said he would show us once you two moved in.” The floo went off again.

“Holy fuck!” Ron’s voice carried, “Mione?”

“Down here.” Hermione called back.

“This place is insane! Merlin’s saggy tits, I hardly recognize it—Hullo Mrs. Malfoy.” Ron said awkwardly, he was holding a large bag.

“Mr. Weasley.” She nodded her head.

“Brought food. You know Mum, can’t help herself when—you know.” Ron opened the bag and brought out trays of food. It all smelled delicious, but Draco wasn’t too sure he could eat it. Once Ron had set everything out, he looked at Draco for a moment. When Weasley hugged him, he wasn’t sure if he could be more shocked. The dream like state he was in only seemed more surreal. Surely Weasley would never hug him.

“I’m so sorry mate.” Ron whispered.

“Th-thank you.” Draco stuttered, upset that his voice was thick, “I know—I know neither of you have reason to like my—my father—"

“Don’t be an idiot.” Weasley said fondly, “We’re here for you, in any way you need us. Even if you want to call me Weasel to help you feel better.” Draco let out an exasperated laugh, which sounded like a sob.

“It might.” Weasley laughed and shoved over a tray full of some sort of casserole.

“Eat. You look thin.” Draco decided not to tell him that he sounded like Molly, but did grab his own plate.

“Draco?” Blaise called out.

“Down here!” Hermione answered for him.

“Only you would go from disgraced Death Eater, to bagging Harry Potter, to living in a fucking stellar house.” Blaise said as he walked down the steps, a bag in hand.

“You don’t have to stay.” Draco told him.

“Try getting rid of me you arse. Someone will have to keep all these Gryffindors in line.” Blaise smiled even when Draco looked down at his plate. Emotion blocked his throat. Blaise was always good at throwing everything aside for Draco.

“I’m sorry you’re always helping me.” Draco whispered.

“I’m not.” Blaise sat down next to him, pulling on his arm gently so Draco turned to look at him, “You’re my best friend, alright? We’re supposed to figure out how to be new Slytherins together. I’m here for you and you’re here for me.” Draco nodded.

Ron snorted, “Hufflepuffs.”

“You take that back Weasel.” Blaise glared at him and Ron laughed. The floo sounded off again.

“Draco?” Teddy’s voice made Draco’s heart melt a bit.

“Down here Dromeda.” Ron called.

“Draco? Harry just sent us an owl. I’m so sorry.” Andy hugged him just as tightly as everyone else had but plopped Teddy in his lap.

“Harry says you need lots of hugs and kisses.” Teddy informed him before kissing his cheek a few times. His little arms wrapped around Draco and squeezed him as tightly as he could.

“Thank you Teddy.” His voice choked up and more tears came to his eyes. A chair scratched and everyone turned to look at his Mother. His mother was pointedly not looking in Andromeda’s direction, but neither was Andy.

“I think—I’d like to see my room.”

“Of course.” Draco said, putting Teddy down, “I’ll be back.” He warned everyone as he started to the steps, his mother following him.

They walked in silence up the many flights of stairs, Draco opened the door of the original master bedroom. Apparently it’s where Buckbeak used to sleep. There were no signs of him anymore except for one beautiful painting of a Hippogriff on the wall. Draco almost vetoed it, but Harry was persuasive.

“This is the master suite.” His mother said.

“Harry redid the top floor, so it’s the master bedroom now. I think he likes the idea of sleeping where Sirius used to live.” Draco told her, and she nodded. Her bag was at the end of the bed. Kreacher had set it on a luggage rack, “Are you sure you want to be here by yourself?” Draco asked.

She smiled through tears, “I hardly recognize you anymore.” She wiped her face, “The life you’ve built—you have so many people that dropped everything to come and care for you.”

“I—Harry sent them.”

“But they came _for you_ Draco.” She sounded impressed, “You have built something miraculous around you, and I’m so sorry we kept you back from this.” She wiped tears from her face. More tears spilled down Draco’s cheeks. He didn’t realize it was possible to cry this much, “I know now why you were unwilling to give all this up.”

“I love my life.” He said choked up, he wrapped his arms around himself. His mother grabbed his arm tightly, to the point where it almost hurt.

“You should.” She whispered into his ear, kissing his head three times. Draco wrapped his arms around her.

“I can’t believe—this doesn’t feel real.” Draco said again. She weaved her fingers through his hair, holding him close to her. She kissed his head again.

“Go. I will see you in the morning.”

“Call Kreacher if you need anything.” Draco told her, squeezing her one more time before walking out of the room.

It still felt like he was walking through water. He couldn’t really focus on what was in front of him as he walked down the stairs. He stopped on the main level when he could hear everyone talking down in the kitchen. There was some murmuring and laughing. He sat on the last step and put his head in his hands.

His father was gone.

More tears seemed to leak out, but Draco didn’t really notice. His heart ached in his chest and he felt like he might fall apart.

“Draco?” Teddy’s light voice called to him and he looked up. His hair was the same blonde color as his own.

“Hey.” He said weakly, “What are you doing up here?”

“Grammy sent me to come get you.” He walked closer. Draco smiled a bit so Teddy gave him a hug, “My Daddy died too.”

Draco let out a sob before he could quite stop himself, turning away from Teddy, “Your Daddy was a wonderful man. My Dad—he—he was” Draco stuttered through the past tense, not quite sure if his lips felt real anymore, “He wasn’t a nice man. He hurt me, but I still loved him.”

“Love.” Harry corrected. Draco’s heart swelled a bit at the sound of his voice, more tears came down his cheeks as Harry sat next to him on the step, “Love doesn’t stop because someone isn’t with us anymore. Right Teddy?”

Teddy smiled, “Right.” Harry hugged Draco tightly with his one arm, pulling Teddy close with the other. All three sat on the steps for longer than Draco would ever admit, just letting himself cry for a bit. Teddy’s small hand rubbed his back between his shoulder blades, and Harry just squeezed him tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo. I need icecream. Come to Tumblr for behind the scenes [Caedes12](https://caedes12.tumblr.com/)


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Response

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! Your reviews were overwhelming. I was so nervous to post last chapter. And now I'm going to get such a big head and it's all your fault. There will be no stopping me :)
> 
> **Warnings!**  
>  More brain fog in this one. And emotional roller coaster of emotions has lots of whip lash.

Draco sat on the step with Teddy and Harry until his arse started to hurt. Sometimes he could hear Teddy softly talking to Harry, but most of the time it was quiet. Draco kept his head down with his hands over his head, even then he didn’t want Harry or Teddy to see him crying. When he had calmed down a bit, Harry kissed his shoulder.

“Have you eaten anything?”

“I started to eat stuff Molly made—it’s downstairs.” Draco’s voice was hoarse as he wiped his face clean of tears.

“Let’s go get you fed, then we can go to bed. Alright?” Harry said, and Draco nodded. He suddenly realized how exhausted he was, it was difficult to stand up his limbs felt so heavy.

“I don’t know if I want to go down there—I’m sure my face looks ridiculous.” He motioned to his face, which had to be red from crying so much.

“Draco, your face is bruised from breaking your nose. You look absolutely ridiculous, but I’m sure no one down there cares.” Harry told him. Draco had forgotten that was why his face hurt so badly. Harry cupped Draco’s cheek gently and kissed him.

“Ew.” Teddy declared, making them both chuckle a bit.

“What happened to your hand?” Draco asked, grasping Harry’s right hand that had a split in it and a few bruises.

“Uh—nothing I didn’t settle.” Harry told him, his tone unyielding.

“Does it—what happened?” Draco knew it had to do with his father.

“An auror made a comment at the Manor, my temper got the better of me.” Harry admitted. Draco didn’t need to know what the auror said. Probably a wise crack that he was glad Lucius was dead.

“More people are going to make comments Harry. You can’t punch all of them.” Draco whispered. He took out his wand to murmur a few healing spells.

“I know. But it was—it just happened. And he’s an _auror_.”

“Not everyone is like you.” Draco looked up at Harry so he knew it was a compliment.

“I’d protect you from all of this if I could. The paper—the press tomorrow—I tried Draco.” He sounded heart broken.

“I’m sure you did. You can’t stop Rita.” Draco’s voice caught again, thinking about tomorrow. The headlines— _Death Eater Finally Offs Himself. Celebrations Ensue._ He bit his lip.

“Draco!” Teddy cried out, and Draco looked down at him holding up his hands, “Up!” Apparently he didn’t like being ignored. Draco picked him up, his legs wrapped around Draco’s waist. It hurt his ribs a bit to hold Teddy, but he much preferred hugging someone to not.

“Soon you’re going to be too big for this.” Draco warned him.

“No.” Teddy informed him, putting his head on his shoulder.

“Food.” Harry insisted, pulling Draco towards the steps.

 

It was a bit overwhelming to be around so many people when he was so emotional, but Draco knew why Harry insisted on it. Being around people made him feel loved, supported. Despite his loss, he had people here standing next to him. Andy had a hand on him, rubbing his back a bit as he ate. The food started to taste like something else other than cardboard, but he could feel his body start to shut down after the day. Everyone talked around him, but it was better to sit there and be apart of it. He didn’t really care that he wasn’t really following the conversation; he liked hearing the cadence of everyone’s voice. As he ate, Draco could feel his body growing heavier; he was exhausted. Once he had eaten his portion, he turned to Harry.

“Bed?” Harry offered.

“Yeah. I think I need some sleep.” Draco said.

“Ok.” Harry nodded.

“Night Draco” Teddy said.

“Goodnight Teddy.”

Harry walked with him upstairs and pulled off his auror robes nearly as soon as he walked in the room.

“What time is it?” Draco asked.

“Eight.” Harry answered as he helped Draco undress. He nodded a bit helplessly before Harry pulled off his undershirt.

“You don’t have to go to bed too.” Draco said as he curled up in the new bed with new sheets.

“I’ll wait for you to sleep.” Harry insisted, throwing his jeans to the side.

“You’re making a mess of our new room.” Draco said, his voice closing off. He wasn’t sure what made him start crying again, but more tears gathered in his eyes as he curled up into himself. Harry was by his side, pulling him close as he pulled the blankets up. Harry propped himself up against the headboard, pulling Draco’s legs across his lap as tears started coming down Draco’s face, “He killed himself.”

“I am so sorry Draco.”

“I just—I’m—he _despised_ that I was suicidal. Said I was _weak_.” Draco choked out, pulling away from Harry. He needed to stand. The rage bottling inside him came furiously quick. It was hot and fast; Draco had no control over the fire burning inside of him. He started pacing, “HE HAS BEEN SUICIDAL FOR YEARS! A-fucking- _parrently._ ” Draco knew he was yelling, but he didn’t really care. His entire body was shaking, “The fucking _hypocrite_. I don’t know where he fucking gets off. He made me feel desolate just because he fucking COULD. Made me feel so _alone_ because he is all HIGH AND MIGHTY AND ABOVE DEPRESSION. AND THEN HE FUCKING DOES THE SAME THING. THAT ASS HOLE.” His throat seared from yelling, he couldn’t believe what he just said, “I—I just—oh Merlin, I shouldn’t have said that. He just—and I just—” The high of righteous anger burned away as quickly as it came. He just insulted his father, who was _dead_. He was _sick_. His father needed help. Draco started to make ugly crying sounds. Harry approached rather cautiously, but then squeezed him tightly.

“I’m so sorry.” Harry said again. That was _it_? That was all he had to say after that rant?

“You’re _sorry_?” Draco pushed him away, “You’re fucking sorry my arsehole of a Death Eater father fucking killed himself?” Draco yelled again, “He hurt me for fucking _years_. He used stinging hexes. Fucking emotionally abused me for fucking laughs, threw me out of the goddamned house when I wouldn’t marry a pure blood witch. Then the _drunken arsehole_ steals my hair and tries to _ruin my fucking life_! THEN HE KILLS HIMSELF!” Draco shoved Harry again, “one last fucking DICK MOVE. Like he couldn’t fucking _HELP HIMSELF_. JUST ONE LAST FUCK YOU.”

Harry grabbed him and held him tight. Draco twisted a punch to his rib cage. It felt satisfying to hear Harry gasp for a moment before he realized what he had done.

“Fuck! I’m sorry! I don’t know why I did that.” His voice didn’t even sound like his own, he sounded insane, “I—don’t leave me. I’m sorry.”

“Draco, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve punched you in my sleep, remember?”

Draco sobbed into Harry’s shoulder as Harry hauled him close, “That’s different, you were having a nightmare.”

“I love you” Harry said softly.

“I love you.” Draco replied. Harry used that as permission to pick him up like the big strong protective auror that he was. Harry carried him back to bed and tucked him in, sliding up behind him. Draco continued to cry as Harry rubbed his back. He had bounced from angry to upset so quickly his head was spinning. This was an emotional rollercoaster that he didn’t want to be on at all. When his sobs quieted a bit, Harry wiped his face clean and did a spell to clear up his stuffed nose. He pulled Draco to his chest and lay down, still rubbing his back. Draco let the steady motion lull him to sleep.

 

It took Draco a second to remember what had happened the day before when he woke up. And another second to remember where he was. He looked around and saw Teddy curled up next to him, the rest of the bed missing Potter. Teddy looked so little asleep like that, like a little angel. He couldn’t imagine harming him—but his father was already using stinging hexes by this age. How could he hurt someone so small? Draco felt emotion clog in his throat, he didn’t think he could cry so much. He curled up around Teddy, taking his small hand in his own.

“Dray?” He sounded sleepy.

“You don’t have to wake up.” Draco whispered to him. Teddy curled up closer to Draco, throwing one arm around him and snuggling into his shoulder.

“Grammy said she’d make pancakes.” Teddy murmured, “And eggs but I don’t like eggs.”

“Yes you do.” Draco told him, “You eat them to grow big and strong.”

“Yuck.” Teddy scrunched his nose but otherwise fell back asleep. Draco couldn’t fall back asleep, but he didn’t mind laying there and holding Teddy as he did. He had grown so much since Draco had met him, like a little weed. But it felt good to remind himself that life starts over again, it doesn’t stop because something awful happened. And in this instance it made Draco hopeful, that he too could keep moving from this tragedy. The world will plow forward after the death of Lucius Malfoy.

Draco lay there with Teddy for another half hour before he woke up again and insisted on breakfast. He took one of Harry’s sweatshirts and pulled it on over his head with a pair of sweatpants before walking down with Teddy. The house was quiet until Draco walked into the kitchen. Andy was sitting at the kitchen counter, reading the newspaper.

“Morning.” She said.

“Is that today’s?” Draco asked.

“Yes. Harry bought one of each copy in case you wanted to look.” Andy pointed at the pile: one from the Prophet, one from Witch Weekly, another from The Business Wizard and a few other newspapers.

“Where is Harry?”

“He went to work. The letter here is from your boss, he wants to see you when you’re ready but is giving you all the time you need.” The letter was unopened, but Harry must have gotten the information from Winston earlier. Draco was grateful Harry was taking the point on everything, he wasn’t sure if he could do it. Draco bit his cheek so hard it bled. Tears came to his eyes again but he managed to choke them down as he looked at the tile floor.

“Yeah.” He managed to choke out.

Andy squeezed his arm, “How about breakfast? Blueberry banana pancakes are my specialty.”

“Sounds perfect.” He said with a watery smile. She nodded before going to the kitchen. Kreacher must have bought things for the apartment because they were stocked on everything, including fresh produce, “Do I want to look at the newspaper?” Draco asked her.

“It’s not as bad as it could have been. The Prophet’s is the worst, of course. But they still included Harry’s quote.”

“He didn’t say fuck off did he?” Draco asked.

Andy snorted, “No. Well, not that they included anyway.”

Draco thought it was better to be informed, so he looked at the Prophet first.

_Death Eater Kills Himself in Final Act of Defiance_

The article went on to claim the aurors were incompetent but still managed to make it sound like it was a good thing Lucius was able to complete the act. It mentioned that Draco, Harry and Narcissa were all there.

“ _He was Draco’s father. Despite his flaws, despite Draco’s, they both loved each other. You can’t ask Lucius’s family not to be upset. He was fifty years old. His family still hoped he would learn and mend his ways. Lucius had his demons. It is no secret that I disliked him, but I feel for Draco. Losing a father is difficult, no matter the circumstance. We ask for you privacy during this time, and thank you for your support_.” It was a well-crafted statement. It gave the expectation that Harry’s words would be followed. Despite Harry hating politics, this was a prime example of why he would be excellent. It showed the public that they too could hate Lucius, but be respectful of Draco’s pain.

The rest of the article was trash, so he stopped reading it.

“Draco?” Andy called to him and he looked up. She placed a stack of pancakes in front of him.

“Harry’s statement is well done.” Draco said, his voice wobbled despite his desperate attempts to control it.

“Yes, it is.” Andy held Draco’s arm tightly, “I just wanted to let you know that I heard you yelling last night.”

Draco turned bright red, “I—oh I am so sorry.”

“I didn’t mean it to make you embarrassed. Draco, I know it’s not the same, but I’ve lost both my parents. I hadn’t talked to either one in years, but I know what it is like to grieve and yet feel so angry.”

“Your parents died—

“Old, and because of gluttony and greed. I know it’s not the same. But I do understand the anger. And I want you to know I am here for you—I love you.”

“Thank you Andy.” Draco frowned for a moment before digging into his breakfast. He wasn’t exactly hungry, but knew he should eat. He took his time, eating slow was better than not eating at all.

Teddy scarfed down food next to him and chatted on about different things he was doing at school. It wasn’t real school, as he was only a little over five years old. But he wanted to show off how much he had learned.

“Has my Mum come downstairs?” Draco asked Andy after he finished his last bite of pancake.

“No, but Kreacher brought her food earlier.” Draco nodded, sliding out and heading upstairs to go talk to his mother.

Draco walked up the stairs slowly, his body didn’t want to move any faster it seemed. He could hear voices carrying from upstairs as he got closer to his mother’s bedroom.

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re not much better than Lucius.” Blaise’s voice carried a bit down the hall, “You stood by while he was abused—physically and emotionally—and did nothing. You let him get thrown out of the house. You can tell me it was all Lucius’s idea, and I’m sure it was, but you are just as complicit in your silence. You have no idea what it was like when he came to my house, how terrified I was that I was going to wake up to find him dead. I dragged him to hours of therapy, and I will not see you decimate his progress or use this most recent tragedy to your advantage.”

“Blaise.” Draco interrupted, walking into the bedroom.

Blaise only glared at him, “I couldn’t not say something.” He didn’t apologize, but that wasn’t like Blaise.

“Andy is making breakfast if you want anything.” Draco said, he didn’t need Blaise to apologize. Blaise nodded and walked out of the bedroom, squeezing his shoulder for a moment before walking down the steps.

His mum had taken up the desk by the window. There was parchment and opened letters all over it.

“You alright?” Draco asked.

“Yes. Your father had specific plans for his funeral, so I am just going by his wishes.” Draco sat down. A funeral. He hadn’t even thought about it.

“D-do you need help?”

“No.” His mother’s voice sounded far away, “As I said, he knew his plans. I don’t think there will be an issue.”

Draco nodded, “If you need anything, let me know. I—I’ll do what I can.”

“Your father left everything to me, so it is an easy transition.” His mother said softly.

“I wasn’t saying that to get something—I know I am not in his will.” Draco glared at her.

She looked surprised, “I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant—I meant that this process should be relatively painless.”

“Painless?” Draco whispered the question, looking down at his hands. The silence stretched between them for too long. Draco wondered if he should just leave her alone. If she left, none of it would feel real. His father wouldn’t even be dead, it would be like they weren’t talking as per usual. He could pretend it never happened.

“Draco?” She said his name, her voice cracked. He looked up to see her crying. Immediately tears welled in his own eyes, and he let out a broken sob as he turned away from her. She walked over to the settee he was sitting on and sat next to him, taking his hand.

“What does he want for his funeral?”

“Something at the church on the Manor property. Several of the things listed are for a more—for someone more in favor at the ministry, so I will have to make do with something different. But it’s mostly just the peripheral things, the funeral will be as he wanted.”

“When?”

“Three days from now.” She pulled out a letter with familiar chicken scratch all over it, “Harry outlined the wards he could use to make sure no one is at the funeral that has ill will toward Lucius or anyone there.”

“You spoke with him?”

“Briefly before he left this morning.” Draco nodded again.

 

The whole day Draco wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He did eventually open his letter from Winston, which expressed sadness for Draco’s loss and pride for how he conducted himself at St. Mungo’s. It was at that thought that made him go to St. Mungo’s. He wanted to see Sammy, though he wasn’t entirely sure she would want to see him. Once he had at least made sure she was all right, even if she never wanted to see him again, he could perhaps grab some research material.

“Draco, I am so sorry.” Sammy said as soon as he walked into her room.

“I’m sorry for putting you here.” He replied, moving rather hesitantly to her bedside. She looked much better than she had the day before.

“Not—I don’t care about this.” She waved her hand around a bit, “Your father! I am so sorry. Don’t read the article in the Prophet, it’s a load of tosh.”

“I read it.” He plopped down in the chair with a heavy exhale.

“Were you—were you worried I would be mad at you?” Sammy asked.

Draco glared at her, “Of course I was! One of my friends cut you up for fun! Sent here by my own father! Anyone in their right bloody fucking mind should be mad at me!”

Sammy smiled at him like he was an unruly student, “But, as you are so fond of pointing out, I’m a Hufflepuff. I’m never in my right mind.”

Draco snorted, grabbing her hand and squeezing it softly. He felt emotion well up in his chest again, “I hate feeling this emotional. I feel like a bloody Hufflepuff stood up at the Yule Ball.” He covered his head with his hands and looked down at the tiled floor.

“I know.” She rubbed his arm a bit, “I am so sorry about your father Draco.”

“Don’t be, he would have hated you.”

“Probably, but he didn’t hate you.”

Draco was quiet, clenching his jaw so tightly he was sure his teeth would snap, “Sometimes I think he did.” Sammy didn’t say anything back, she just continued to rub his arm as he stared at the floor. There might have been a few more tears that leaked out, but Sammy didn’t say anything. It was quiet for a bit as Draco tried to settle the emotions roaring inside of him. If Sammy spoke, Draco didn’t respond. It took much to long before he felt like he could look up at her again. Though he knew his face still looked ridiculous from the bruise.

“How did you know it wasn’t me?”

She blushed, “For awhile I didn’t. You were—well, it wasn’t _you_ —but that woman played it cool for a bit, I guess trying to get a layout or a plan together. I thought you were just in a bit of a snit, because you weren’t talking. I asked you how it went with your mother, and you ignored me. Which I did think was sort of weird. You don’t usually ignore me if you don’t want to talk, you say something a bit condescending and rude.”

“Sorry.” Draco said.

She smiled, “It’s actually amusing. You usually pick something inconsequential—like one time you had a miniature rant about how all the bulletin boards shouldn’t have any yellow fliers on them because it’s too close to the wall color.” Draco had the decency to blush, “So since you ignored me, I decided I would cheer you up. You—well, not you again—but you were working at the nurses station. I think you were actually counting how many people were on the floor.”

“Pansy, that’s her name.”

“Pansy then was counting. I sat up on the nurses’ station—risking Sherry’s wrath I’ll have you know. And was swinging my feet so you could see them.” Draco raised an eyebrow, “You can never resist calling me out for my shoes. You could be half dead and you would say some ridiculous comment. And Pansy didn’t say a _word_. That’s when I knew it wasn’t you. I was just about to say something when she started hexing people—used the Imperius curse to get them all into the one room. It was horrible.”

Draco nodded, “It’s—I’ve been under its influence before. It’s awful.”  

She looked a bit surprised, “Oh yes, I forgot.”

“Using it isn’t wonderful either.” Draco added, not quite sure why he did.

Sammy grimaced, “I could never—

“Be glad that has never been tested.” Draco snapped.

She was quiet, “You’re right—I am so sorry.” Draco nodded, staring at his hands.

“How long before I got there?”

“Only a few minutes. By that point I was already telling everyone it wasn’t you, that it was polyjuice. She heard me and got upset, tried to prove she was you. But the doubt was already there, and she knew it. She got a bit frantic after that.”

“Then I came in.”

“Yes. And you saved all of us.”

“It’s not saving if it’s a mess of my own making.”

“I don’t think your father being an ass hole is your fault. He was one long before you were born.” Sammy retorted, then gasped, “I—I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“He’s dead, doesn’t make him suddenly not an ass hole.” Draco told her.

“Doesn’t make him not your Dad either.” Sammy reminded him.

“I know.” Fuck his voice sounded high pitched and a bit rough, “I should probably let you rest.”

“Ok. But I’m here if you need me—alright?” Draco nodded because he couldn’t quite trust himself to talk.

He walked down the corridor and managed to avoid everyone, trying to get to his office to hide away. At least it would give him time to collect himself before leaving out the front lobby. Plus, he needed to grab some of his research material. He wasn’t really paying attention as he walked into his office.

“Sherry?” Sherry was in his office with John and Aiden, who was holding Estella.

“Draco!” Estella said excitedly, holding out her arms. He couldn’t quite believe a child was that willing to be held by him, but he took her out of her father’s hands as she launched herself at Draco.

“Estella.” Draco greeted warmly, squeezing her tight. Aiden and Estella both looked a little rough. It must have been a full moon the night before, Draco made a mental note to start following the lunar cycles more carefully.

“What are you doing here?” Sherry asked.

“Getting research—what is everyone doing in my office?”

“I got your letter, I was coming by to talk to you about it. Sherry and John were—they told me what happened. I haven’t read the Prophet—I’m so sorry for your loss Draco.” Aiden looked sincere, despite the fact that Lucius had been in the Prophet disparaging werewolves on more than one occasion.

“Thank you.”

“Was the Prophet right?” John asked.

“John!” Sherry swatted his shoulder.

“About what?” Draco asked.

“You shouldn’t ask that.” Sherry glared at John.

“It just—it sounded like you were there.” John said, not even flinching when Sherry whacked him again. Draco felt like he had been punched and was very glad to still be holding Estella. The out of body experience happened almost instantly, like he was underwater again and nothing was quite real. A small pat on his back made him turn to Estella. She had a cut on her face from Merlin knows what, she was sucking on her thumb as she looked at him.

“We should get some dittany for that cut.” Draco said softly. He moved to the medicine cabinet. He grabbed a bottle from his store, “Yeah, I was there. So were my Mum and Harry.”

“Jesus.” Sherry whispered as John cursed behind him.

“You shouldn’t say words like that.” Draco informed Estella, plopping her down on a chair, “This will sting a bit.” He warned, dropping two small drops in the cut. The wound hissed and Estella winced, moving backwards slightly, “Sorry, I know it hurts.”

“Only a little bit.” She said bravely, but Draco saw tears water in her eyes.

“ _Accio_ chocolate.” Draco caught the secret stash of chocolate that flew out from a secret compartment. He opened the box and showed it to her, “You can pick two.” Her eyes lit up with excitement. She stared at the box for a moment before picking one that was heart shaped and another that was a milk chocolate square, “Is she allergic to anything?” Draco asked.

“No.” Aiden said, still looking a bit like he wasn’t sure how to deal with Draco. Estella lit up as soon as she bit into the small chocolate heart, “What do you say Estella?”

“Thank you Draco.” Her grin was full of chocolate and it made Draco laugh. He took the bottle of Dittany and handed it to Aiden.

“I—I can’t afford this.” Aiden said, shaking his head. Dittany was an expensive potion to get ahold of, and always in tiny bottles.

“You misunderstand. Take it. I have three bottles in there and I can brew it. And I steal ingredients from St. Mungo’s anyway.” He smirked.

“You shouldn’t do that.” Sherry said, but Draco knew she was saying it.

“Thank you. Jack is ruffed up—I don’t know what he was up to, but it wasn’t anything good.” Aiden blushed a bit.

“I assume you came here about my letter?” Draco prompted.

“Yeah—just questions really.” Aiden said, “But I’ll come back later.”

“We can talk now.” Draco said.

“N-no.” Aiden shook his head, “I’ll come back—take time for yourself Draco.”

Draco nodded, “I’d just rather know if you’re not taking it on now.”

Aiden snorted, “You thought I’d turn you down? Hell no.”

“A-are you sure? There are a lot of risks.” Draco said.

“We’re going to head out. Draco, please let us know if you need anything.” Sherry squeezed his hand, “And don’t come back in here for a week at least.”

John also gave him a big hug, which was more disconcerting. He was used to the gruff man being emotionally despondent.

“Draco, we don’t have to do this now.” Aiden said after John and Sherry left.

“Honestly I think I need the distraction.” Draco admitted, he dropped into one of his office chairs.

“Ok.” Aiden said, sitting down.

“So you are willing to put up with treatment?”

“Yes.” Aiden said instantly.

“It might lead to nothing.” Draco said honestly.

“Hope is more than I’ve ever had before.”

“I can’t promise curing—my long term goal right now is just to alleviate symptoms. What I’m starting on is refining Wolfsbane potion. It has some older techniques that could be updated with modern methods, makes it easier to brew.”

Aiden nodded, “I’ve never used it.”

“And is that normal?”

“I’ve only met three werewolves that have used it, and only one consistently. She brews it herself.”

“She doesn’t brew for anyone else?”

“No—it wouldn’t stop if she did. People would be banging down her door. I only know she brews it because I am a confidant.”

Draco nodded, “Anyone you know willing to put up with testing?”

“I’ll ask around. I think I can get around thirty—maybe more.”

“Thirty?” Draco was shocked. He was hoping for four or five werewolves to test on, but he had no idea that there would be thirty people willing to be tested on by a Malfoy.

“We’re desperate for anything.” Aiden looked to Estella.

“I wouldn’t want her to try—or Jack—until extensive testing is done.” Draco said firmly.

Aiden nodded, looking back to Draco, “Anything is better than where we are now.”

“Dead or worse is not better.” Draco corrected. Aiden nodded, but his expression said _things can’t get any worse_ , “How is Jack liking Hogwarts?”

“Oh he loves it.” Aiden lit up with excitement, “He’s a Gryffindor.”

“I knew he would be.” Draco said with a chuckle, “Says his opinions too loud to be anything else.”

Aiden laughed, “He found friends pretty quick, but they don’t know about his condition.”

Draco nodded, “It’ll take time, but he’ll trust them eventually. Does he do the full moons at school?”

“He does sometimes, but he prefers to be around a pack if he can.” Aiden said, “The pack instincts even while human can be very strong.”

Draco scrunched his nose, “I need you to write down all the werewolf symptoms you have during a moon cycle.” He grabbed a notebook and flipped it to Aiden who grabbed it, “Every instinctual pull, how things change closer and further away from the full moon.”

“Ok.” Aiden nodded, “But I—I’ve been one for so long.”

“That’s ok. Anything you can think of, write down. And tell your friends who are willing to sign up to start writing stuff down too. As descriptive as possible, even if you’re too embarrassed.”

Aiden scrunched his nose but nodded, “There’s a lot of stuff they don’t write about in books about werewolves.” He looked to the werewolf books Draco had stacked up neatly on his desk.

“I’m sure.” Draco said flatly, “Half of what is in any of these books is drivel. I’m trying to get a copy of notes from Damocles—he’s the guy that made the Wolfsbane potion, but he is not responding to my owls.”

“You probably want Harry to ask.” Aiden said, “He might not be responding because of—well—you know.” He turned a bit pink, “But I have someone I can ask too, she knows Damocles.”

“I’d prefer not to use Harry if I don’t have to—but I’m not above it.” Draco admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Aiden nodded, “Understandable, given everything.”

“I’ll follow up soon, send me your notes when you can.”

“I might ask Kali for some help—she hasn’t been a werewolf as long as I have.”

Draco nodded, “She can keep her own journal if she wants.” Aiden nodded again, sticking his hand out.

“Thank you for doing this Draco.”

Draco blanched, not really believing he could be _thanked_. It seemed too strange, but he shook Aiden’s hand anyway, “Owl if you have any questions, or drop by. I’m almost always here.” Aiden nodded.

“Alright pumpkin, time to hit the road.” He turned to Estella, “Say goodbye to Draco.”

“Bye Draco!” She said excitedly, a bit of chocolate on her chin.

“Bye Estella.” Draco waved goodbye to her as the two left his office.

As soon as the door shut, the weight of grief hit him like a ton of bricks. He couldn’t stand any longer under the bulk of it so he collapsed back into the chair. It had been prickling in the back of his mind like an itch, but now without any distraction it was there again.

His father was gone.

He had to get home.

Draco grabbed a bunch of things before realizing he didn’t bring a bag. He grabbed one of the random tote bags St. Mungo’s had given him over the years that he had stashed in his desk. He dropped what he thought he would need into a bag and headed back toward the elevator.

His brain felt like it was covered in wool as he stared at the elevator buttons. He knew he had to pull himself out of it, so he shook his head a bit. When that didn’t work he pinched his arm.

This was happening, this was _real_. The elevator door dinged and Draco walked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If ya want some behind the scenes, or just wanna come say hello... Here's my Tumblr [Caedes12](https://caedes12.tumblr.com/)


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Therapy and funerals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close to the end here guys! One more chapter and an epilogue. Not saying I won't add companion pieces, because I _just_ might.
> 
> WARNINGS: Draco talks about his suicide attempts again in therapy. As it is previously discussed multiple times, I don't think this is spoiling anything.

It was a long three days until the funeral. Meredith, Harry’s mind healer, had come over and sat down with Draco. He found that extremely beneficial right out of the gate. It was like someone flicked him on the head and boosted his confidence all at the same time. He met with her every day, part of the session with Harry and part of it without. It was good to have an individual talking to but it was also good to have a neutral party there while he told everything he was feeling to Harry. Sometimes it was silent for a while as Draco worked up the courage to say the things he didn’t want to say. But he always felt relieved after he said them, albeit exhausted.

“I just keep waiting for those same feelings to happen to me.” Draco finally admitted to Meredith, not realizing he was even feeling that way until he said it. He was staring into a cup of tea at Grimmauld place in the comfy sitting room on the second floor. Harry was curled up on the couch facing him, his green eyes never wavering, “I know they didn’t appear out of nowhere last time—but it sort of felt like it. Like one day I was fine and the next I was shit.”

“Now you know better.” Meredith pointed out.

“I do.” Draco looked up at her, “And I’m not feeling that way. I feel valued—so many people are here even now. Getting them to bloody well leave me alone is a problem.” He couldn’t resist a bit of a look at Harry. He knew Harry had a rotation of who was supposed to be glued to Draco at all times.

“Not a bad problem to have in these circumstances.” Meredith said with a slight smile.

“No.” He agreed, “My mum is alone, no one has—no one has come over to stand by her. She’s gotten cards of course, lots of letters of sympathy but—” He dragged off.

“Not like you have.”

He shook his head, “How fucked up is it that my Dad dies and it makes me appreciate my choices to distance myself from him that much more?” Draco wiped a tear that fell, “I could have been him—I _was_ him. I was trying to change my eighth year at Hogwarts, and I was a bit. That’s when I started becoming friends with Hermione. But when I stepped off the train for Christmas, I was rude to her in front of my mother. Her face—I—I betrayed her, and I knew it. Every painstaking conversation and step I had made had all been thrown to hell because I couldn’t do it when it counted.

“Then of course over break I was thrown out of my parents house for not marrying Astoria and I went to Blaise’s. It was a few days later when I got a letter from Father with a lump sum and a declaration that I was thrown out of the will and vaults that I tried to kill myself the first time.” It got easier to tell the story every time he said it, but it was never easy. He was shaking a bit but he didn’t want to put his mug of tea down.

“Did you start going to a mind healer then?”

Draco nodded, “Blaise made me go when I got back to school. Leah was my mind healer at Hogwarts, McGonagall had her on staff to help anyone who wanted to go talk to him. I sort of told her half-truths about my family, glossed over how bad it was at home. But she knew my father had kicked me out, she didn’t know I was thrown out of the will. She helped me write the letter to apologize to my parents for how I acted, but not apologize for my choice. To ask to be brought back into the fold. I think she thought my parents were just playing the tough love act.”

Draco shook his head, rubbing the edge of the teacup. His heart was pounding; it did every time he told the story. He took a sip of tea but it did nothing to help the lodge in his throat, “He burned the letter—my father did.” He coughed a bit to clear his throat but it was a bit useless, “The house elves told me and I was—I was decimated.” He shook his head, not looking at anything else but his teacup. The way the leaves were floating in it. He wouldn’t look at the leaves after he finished, too much sorrow was in the cup already, “Hermione still wasn’t talking to me, I felt like Blaise was only helping me because I was pathetic.”

He was quiet for a bit, still staring at his tea, trying to go on. The end was always the worst bit. If he could just blurt it out. But every time it was like ripping off a Band-Aid extremely slowly, “I took two weeks to plan everything. I went to the mind healer but I pretended I was alright, shrugged everything off when I spoke to Blaise.” He shook his head, “I wanted my parents to hurt like I was hurting. I had tortured for them, tried to kill for them and it meant nothing anymore because they thought I was scum. During the war, I thought about killing myself multiple times to get away from Voldemort, but my parents always kept me going. But I didn’t have that anymore. My plan then was always to kill myself in the bathtub; it was the only place I could have any privacy in that fucked up place. I didn’t alter my plan much.”

Draco swallowed; fuck if he could just spit it out. Harry already knew anyway. He was only telling Meredith for the first time, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t heard shit like this before. But it still clung to him like tar, weighed him down like he didn’t want to speak. He knew it was better to say his story, to get rid of the weight. He took a sip of tea, just enough to wet his lips, “It was the last Saturday at the end of January—the thirty first. I went to the bathroom. I think I was crying when I got into the tub, but I don’t really remember. I was definitely crying when I had my wand out. I used two _diffindo_ hexes to slice up my arms. I did the right arm first because I knew I would do the left without chickening out. The second went right through the Dark Mark, which felt ridiculously triumphant.”

“The bath was huge, so the blood poured out in a fan around me. I remember thinking it was beautiful, watching the swirling red patterns mix with the bubbles. It didn’t hurt much at that point. My vision was going a bit weird—that’s when Hermione found me.”

“Did you fight her off?” Meredith asked.

Draco shook his head, not looking up from his tea, “No. I thought she was an angel. I couldn’t really see her, but I felt her drop dittany in the wounds. I remember being confused why she hurt me. I don’t remember much after that. Apparently she got Myrtle to get Madam Pumphrey. I woke up in the Hospital Wing a few days later.” There. He said all the difficult bits. Not that the aftermath was a piece of cake, but it was easier to talk about, much more difficult to live through, “Hermione was there of course. I apologized for being an arse, and she accepted it. Blaise came with me to some therapy too when I asked, it was good for us. Good for him too.”

He wasn’t quite sure how to say the next bit, how this story tied into today. But he knew he had to say it, “I’m just not sure why I was saved and my father wasn’t. Why was I given a second chance?”

“I can’t answer that.” Meredith said softly, “but it doesn’t mean you can’t use it.”

Draco nodded, “I wish—I wish he didn’t do it. And I know he was an asshole and probably would have never changed—he would make fun of me for crying now but I—I still wish.”

“Oh Draco, of course you do.” Meredith squeezed his arm a bit.

“Why do I miss him if he was such a fucking dick?” Draco asked, not caring about the tears anymore.

“He’s your father. He loved you, even if he wasn’t the best at showing you.”

Harry, it seemed, couldn’t sit to the side anymore. He wrapped his arm around Draco, pulling him in tightly.

“Your ability to love your father is one of the reasons I love you.” Harry said to him.

“Why?” Draco asked.

“Love is powerful.”

“Well right now it feels like shit.”

“But your love for your father helped you survive a war, it helped make you who you are today. But you believe even now if given the chance your father could have become a better person—love is like that. It’s blind, it’s optimistic and sometimes it makes the impossible happen. I believe he would have figured it out, with your help.”

“You’re an idiot.” Draco couldn’t help the affection in his voice.

“I love you.” Harry said in the same tone.

“Even if I miss my fucked up Death Eater father?”

“Because of that. Your ability to love him despite everything you’ve been through is nothing short of miraculous.”

“This is one of those Dumbledore love conquers all speeches.”

“Yes.” Harry grabbed his hand, “Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

“I wish love could have saved him.” Draco whispered.

Harry let out a breath, looking up at Draco with tears in his eyes, “I know.” It was more than that _I know that feeling. I know this sucks._ But it also was _You’re not alone_.

“Let yourself feel.” Meredith told Draco. He turned back to her but kept his hand with Harry, “but tell someone the moment you begin to doubt yourself. It doesn’t have to be Harry.”

Draco nodded, “I will—I think I’m more scared that I will feel them than I have felt them.”

Meredith bobbed her head, “Just keep awareness, and I’ll be back again in two days to check up on you again.” She didn’t say _after the funeral_. But it would be, “You have a tribe of people around you Draco that love you. Let them do that.”

Draco nodded again, “I’ll do my best.”

The exchanged a bit of niceties before she left.

 

The funeral was exhausting. Draco woke up tired that morning and got ready in a bit of a blur. He wore one of the black robes his father bought him seventh year, only to frown when the trousers were a bit snug. They were only too tight for a moment as they were bespoke to fit him perfectly, so they loosened at the waist. But he hadn’t worn these robes in some time; his mother had brought them from the Manor. She had claimed she wanted to see him in one of his nice robes, which Draco knew none of his current robes would fit her standards. He didn’t have designer robes anymore. He still had nice things; he just couldn’t afford the designer price tag. Apparently his parents had kept all the things he hadn’t brought with him in the twenty minutes he took to pack nearly six years ago.

“Have I gotten fat?” Draco asked, walking into the bathroom. Harry was brushing his teeth. He looked a bit panicked before spitting toothpaste in the sink.

“I think you look handsome.” Harry’s eyes darkened a bit as he took in Draco’s outfit, “Maybe you should sneer Potter, I might get turned on.” Draco couldn’t help his small smirk, “Hm, just like that.” Harry kissed him, tasting like toothpaste, “But if you want to work on fitness or nutrition, I’ll support you.” Draco knew he wasn't saying it to be passive aggressive, but as a general note of support. 

“Very diplomatic Minister.” Draco rolled his eyes.

“Does that make you First Lady?” Draco only glared at him, “You are a very beautiful First Lady.”

“Fuck off. I’m very _handsome_ thank you very much.” Harry smiled before kissing him again.

“Should I shave my beard?” Harry asked.

“No, I like your beard.” Draco ran his fingers through it a bit. It was only a few days old, but Harry managed to have a good amount of growth. Draco was a bit jealous, but he looked ridiculous with hair on his face anyway.

“I was thinking of keeping it through the winter.” Harry confessed, glancing at the mirror to look at himself.

“Keep it. I like it.” Draco said, leaning over to kiss him again.

“You ready?” Harry asked.

“No, but I want to get this over with.”

 

Draco and Harry arrived almost exactly on time. His mother had wanted him to greet people, but Draco couldn’t bring himself to do it. His father and his relationship was strained, it was insincere to pretend otherwise.

They walked into a pew in the back. Nearly every prominent pureblood family was there. They were all playing nice with his mother, trying to get something form her. No matter how far they had fallen from grace, money still talked.

“Fuck.” Draco whispered. Harry wove his fingers through Draco’s. Draco was just about to say they should fuck off when the organ music started playing.

In terms of funerals it was remarkably dull. The priest spoke about Lucius’s many accomplishments in life, but it sounded like the man had never met his father. He certainly wouldn’t be saying those things otherwise. One of father’s business partners gave the eulogy. It was once again about accomplishments and power. Nothing was real. His father’s casket looked like a shrine in the front. It was a closed casket, considering the circumstances.

“This is a fucking joke.” Draco murmured to Harry, who only squeezed his hand tighter. The priest droned on about life, but he almost seemed to be reading from a script of another person’s funeral.

At the end, there was time for people to go up and say anything they wanted. Two other people Lucius worked with, both purebloods and one Marked, got up and spoke. His mother sat stony faced in the front row, looking proud.

“Anyone else?” The priest asked.

Draco didn’t realize he stood up until he was walking to the front. His mother wouldn’t look at him as he took the podium.

“Good morning.” Draco said, his voice pitched a bit. He cleared it as everyone responded with good morning, “My father and I didn’t get along—well, not for the past five years. He was a complicated man on the best of days, and we had issues that we never got to work out.” Draco let out a breath, he wasn’t sure what in the world he was doing up there. But had something to say, and damn it, he was going to make this funeral a bit more like it should be. At least some sort of recognition of the man he was, rather than the image he tried to maintain, “He taught me a lot of things that I don’t believe in anymore. He believed in power, which what ended up taking his life.” Draco let out a breath, “My father killed himself because he couldn’t have power. It’s what he strived for his entire life, without any regard to who got hurt along the way. Many times it was at the expense of my mother or myself, or to anyone he deemed necessary.”

Draco’s hands were shaking as his fingers ran along the side of the podium, “Despite all of this I loved my father. He bought me my first broom, pushed me to become the strongest academic possible. There are a lot of things he did that he thought were for the best that weren’t. He wanted me to hate muggles and muggle borns. He wanted me to serve Voldemort.” Most the audience flinched at the name. Harry’s green eyes stared back at him. He looked ridiculously proud, staring at Draco like he was the only person in the room. Draco nodded, “I love my father—love in present tense. I’m told we don’t stop loving people just because they’re gone. Though he favored the bottle, power was my father’s true drug of choice during his life. I hope that in death he has found some peace from it, that he learns that having loving people beside you means so much more. I hope he sees that leaving behind a wife and a son is just—” Draco choked up a bit, his eyes watering, “He might not have had all that he wanted, but I still wish he were here. I still love him. I’ll continue to love him the rest of my life, even though I hope everyday I am never like him.”

He turned to the casket, the ridiculous monstrosity that showed off power and might, “I hope you find peace.” He stepped away from the podium and walked toward Harry. The preacher started droning on again, but Draco felt much better. The windows at the back of the church gave Harry a silhouette as he stood up. Draco walked to him, taking his hand, “Let’s go.”

“You sure?” Harry bit his lip.

Draco nodded and smiled a bit, “Yeah, let’s go.”

The two walked out and Draco breathed in the October air. It was the perfect fall day. Harry had stepped toward the church with his wand out, probably looking at the wards. Draco looked out at the view. He could see the Manor up the road, it’s tall and intimidating fences looking less so with the fall leaves. Harry took his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked.

“Nothing.”

Harry couldn’t lie very well, “Your face is scrunched up weird.” Draco told him as they walked down the path.

“I’m not sure you’ll want to know.”

“Better tell me now.” Draco said. He was feeling a bit high off adrenalin from his speech anyway.

“The wards were adjusted.”

“Someone got in who wasn’t supposed to?” Draco asked.

“Well—the only person that could have changed the wards so seamlessly is your mother.”

“She messed with them?” Draco asked.

“She took down the animagus wards.” Harry said.

Draco snorted, “Good ol’ fuckin’ Rita.”

“I’m sorry Draco.”

“I’m not sure I’m surprised.” Draco shook his head. They were in front of the house. It was open for the reception afterwards.

“You want to go in?” Harry asked.

“No.” Draco shook his head, “You?”

Harry bit his lip, so Draco nudged him, “I kinda want to see your room.”

“Then let’s go in the back entrance—I’m never walking through the front gates again.” Draco swore. They walked around the back yard and Draco pointed to a big tree, “Rode my first broom underneath that tree.”

Harry grinned brightly, “Really?”

“Yeah, I fell off it too. There’s a Quidditch pitch that way.” Draco pointed toward a tree line.

“You have your own Quidditch pitch?” Harry asked.

“Yes—I used to practice on it all summer, envisioning beating an arse with ego issues.”

“I’m sure you don’t mean me.” Harry squeezed his hand with a smile.

“No. Another scar headed idiot.”

“Should I be jealous?” Harry pulled him close.

“Very.” Draco’s lips brushed his as he spoke, just before Harry pressed against him. They were right by the back patio by the family tea room, “That’s my bedroom.” He pointed to a small balcony two floors up overlooking the back yard.

“Should I throw rocks at it?”

Draco snorted, “I don’t think my mother will be too pleased.”

“N-no—is that a muggle thing?”

“What?”

“The boyfriend comes over, tosses rocks at the girlfriend’s window to wake her up so she can sneak out of the house to go away with him.”

Draco blanched, “I’ve never heard of that.” Harry pulled him close and kissed his lips again.

“Hn—then maybe go up there and we can be Romeo and Juliet.”

“I refuse to be tragic lovers.” Draco wove his fingers through Harry’s hair, his beard tickling his lips.

“Come on, I want to go see your room.” Harry tugged him a bit. They walked into the house, and Draco took the back staircase up to his room.

“If my mother gives me this house, I’m tearing it down.” Draco told him.

“You think she will?” Harry asked as they reached the top of the stairs. They were in a back corner of the family wing, so not too close to where his father had—had—had, “Draco?”

“Yeah—sorry.” He shook his head.

“We don’t have to do this.” Harry said softly, making Draco face him.

“I want to show you.” Draco said, turning a bit pink as he stared at the entwined hands, “Then you can show me where you grew up too.”

“You don’t want to see that.” Harry’s tone was cold, closed off.

Draco looked up at him, “Yes I do.”

Harry bit his lip, “I just—yeah ok.”

Draco kissed the corner of his lips and then pulled him further down the hall. They walked up to his door and Draco pushed it open, feeling a bit self-conscious as Harry walked in.

“I _knew_ it would be Slytherin colors.” Harry sounded ridiculously amused.

“Oh shut it.” Draco laughed, relaxing as Harry looked around. It was a bit ridiculously Slytherin. Though the wall colors were a cream color, the room had green accents and a black bed frame. A large Slytherin crest was on the wall, the snake turning to look at them for a brief moment.

“Dobby used to bring me dinner—he’d make me sit there after I played hours of Quidditch and eat. Or after father drilled me on lessons for hours on end.” Draco pointed to the couch, “He healed me a few times too, when father got a little too careless with his stinging hexes. But I was rude to Dobby most of the time, I think Dobby knew I was mean because I was just—I was trying to scrounge around for my pride after my father would humiliate me. Not that it’s an excuse.” Harry pulled Draco close. Draco remembered all the times he would huddle on the couch, just waiting for the stinging hex to fade. Every moment was agonizing until it went down.

“I probably still have scrolls of notes from school over here somewhere—oh! And I have something else.” Draco smiled, looking through some of his school things that were set out on shelves. He pulled out the pin triumphantly.

“Oh I hate you.” Potter said with a laugh as Draco handed him the infamous _Potter Stinks_ badge. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco, sliding his hands into his back pockets. The kiss centered Draco in a way he hadn’t thought possible. All the bad and evil in the house melted away as Harry’s lips caressed his, “Thank you for showing me.” Harry whispered.

“I’m glad you got to see it—even if it’s—I do have some happy memories from here you know? But I—much more bad. That’s why I would tear down this house if it were mine.”

“Well we can both be in that camp—not that I would ever get the Dursley’s house anyway.” Harry shook his head, “I think I’d burn it to the ground.”

“I want to see it before you do.” Draco kissed his jaw, matting the hair down a bit but it sprung back up.

“We can go now—it’s Thursday so they’re all out. Aunt Petunia plays bridge at a friends house.” Harry was shaking a bit, like he didn't quite believe he was offering to go. Draco knew he probably wouldn't offer again.

Draco nodded, “Let’s go.”

 

They appeared on a very muggle looking street. All the houses looked nearly the same.

“Christ, it hasn’t changed.” Harry said, shaking his head. Draco didn’t let Harry pull his hand away as they walked down the street. He watched Harry recede into himself as they slowed to a stop in front of house number 4.

“Is this it?”

“Yeah.” Harry whispered. There was a for sale sign out front, the house looked empty.

“They didn’t tell you they moved?”

“We haven’t spoken in years. I—I knew they came out of hiding but I didn’t speak to them.” Draco bit his lip to keep from commenting on that, but walked up to the front door. A quick spell unlocked it and disarmed the alarm. The house was empty, the stairs had a thin layer of dust over them.

“Looks like no one has been here for awhile.” Draco said.

“My room’s up there.” Harry pointed to the stairs. Draco let Potter lead the way up the stairs. One of the doors had a slot in it, “They kept me locked in here a lot, fed me through the door. I didn’t mind it much, because I didn’t have to see them.” Draco bit his lip to keep from commenting. Harry said it so casually, like it happened to all kids growing up. That every kid _wanted_ to be locked away in their room. As soon as Harry opened the door to his room, Draco relaxed. Despite being devoid of furniture, it still _felt_ like Harry.

“It kinda still smells like you.” Draco said.

“It was the only room in the house that was ever messy.” Harry said with a proud grin. He walked over to a floorboard and it pulled up with ease. There were a few quills hidden in the floor, three rolls of parchment, a chocolate frog with some chocolate frog cards and a few other wizard candies, “They used to lock up my trunk over the summer, so I would scrounge what I could and hide it away here. Getting homework done over the summer was always a challenge.” Draco didn’t know how to respond to that, it was so sad. But everything Harry told Draco was like a precious gift. Draco hungered for more information, but didn’t want to make Harry relive it. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to know so much about Harry’s painful childhood, but it helped Draco understand the man in front of him. Draco only hoped Harry felt like that about his past traumas—that he wanted to know but respected Draco’s need to only tell him in bits and pieces. It was hard enough to speak at all, let alone say every horrible detail at once.

Draco realized it had been a bit quiet as they both stared at the room. Harry looked a bit lost in himself, “Do you think the chocolate frog is still good?” Draco asked, and Harry snorted, looking up at him. Draco smiled at him, and Harry grinned back before replacing the floorboard.

“Fred and George helped me escape from here my second year I think? Yeah it was my second year.” Draco thought he might have heard the story, but he kept his mouth shut as he weaved his fingers through Potter’s, “They attached a cable to the car and pulled the bars off the windows. We put everything in the car first so I could jump right in after the noise.”

“Your stuff?”

“The twins unlocked the cupboard, got my stuff out.” Harry explained, running his finger along the windowsill.

“Can I see it?” Draco asked.

Harry looked at him, “See what?”

“The cupboard.”

“Sure.” Harry was trying to be casual, but he didn’t quite manage it. They walked back down the steps, Draco not letting go of Harry’s hand. They turned the corner and Harry simply stopped. The latch was slid across the door. When Harry didn’t move, Draco slid open the latch and opened the door.

Merlin it was so small. Draco’s teeth ached and his throat closed up as he looked inside. He hunched down a bit and pulled the chain hanging from light bulb. The cupboard managed to look smaller when the light was on.

“Dudley used to jump on the step above me to wake me up in the morning. He’d run around the corner and shove me back in when I walked out.” Harry said, his voice a bit hollow, “My aunt shaved my head but left my bangs because of my horrible scar—my hair miraculously grew back over night so I was locked in here for a week. They fed me through the slot here—it’s what gave them the idea for the slot upstairs.”

That story was a bit too much for Draco. His eyes filled with tears before he could help it.

“Christ, don’t start.” Harry’s voice was thick.

“Can’t help it, I’ve had a trying day.” Draco’s voice cracked a bit, turning to look at Harry. His face was a bit pale, his green eyes were filled with tears, “I’m sorry you had a shit childhood.”

“I’m sorry you did too.”

“Yeah but I had a _balcony_ and my own fucking Quidditch pitch.” Draco turned back to the cupboard, “I can’t—I can’t imagine this.”

“It felt bigger then.” Harry defended the cupboard, because of course he bloody well did. Draco closed his eyes for a moment, trying to picture little Harry in the cupboard. He always wore baggy clothes back then, he was small for his age. It all made more sense seeing this cupboard. He could picture it, “They put a cot in there, so I had somewhere to sleep. I used to put my toy soldiers up there.” He pointed to a shelf, “They moved me out when I got my first Hogwarts letter though. They were scared what Hogwarts would do.”

Draco stood up straight, turning back to Harry, “I wish I could have protected you from this.”

“I wish I could have protected you too.” Harry said stubbornly.

“But I had so much.”

“And we were both treated like shit—it doesn’t much matter how much you have if the people who are supposed to love you treat you like dirt.”

“I love you Harry.” Draco wanted him to know without question that he should never feel like the boy in the cupboard again.

“I love you.” Harry smiled a bit weakly back.

“Thank you for showing me.”

“I—I’m weirdly glad you have seen it. I didn’t think I would be, but I am.” Harry looked away from Draco, “I don’t like talking about it much, doesn’t do much to talk about it anyway.”

“Yeah, I feel the same away about how I grew up too—but I still want you to know.”

Harry nodded strongly, looking back to Draco, “Ready to go home?”

 _Home_. Home where no one would ever live in a cupboard, or recover from stinging hexes for days on end. Home where they loved each other despite everything and yet because of everything. A home that they had made together.

Draco smiled, “Yes. Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr! [ Caedes12 ](https://caedes12.tumblr.com/)


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apartment warming parties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT! I can't believe this is coming to an end. I'll have ONE MORE CHAPTER after this-- the epilogue. I'm not hyperventilating, you're hyperventilating. I can't breathe. Someone give me a paper bag. 
> 
> Also I'm sorry this is a day late, but I promise not a dollar short!

Draco looked through the amount of alcohol lined up on the counter and shook his head. But he checked all the seals as well since George had just walked through the kitchen. It had been seven weeks since Harry and Draco had moved into Grimmauld Place, and they were finally throwing a House Warming Party.

It had been seven long weeks. Draco wasn’t afraid to admit that he hadn’t behaved the best. There had been two separate meltdowns where Draco had been particularly vicious, all of his anger directed at the wrong people. There had been a few smaller ones, but those two were the ones where Harry took the brunt of his anger. Draco had slept in Blaise’s room in Grimmauld Place on both occasions. Both times he knew in some part of his brain that he was being irrational, but he couldn’t really control himself. Harry had been more patient than Draco thought possible, and graciously accepted the thousands of apologies.

It was difficult to process that Lucius was dead. He still had nightmares where he heard the crack of his neck, but Harry was always there to help. Unless he was gone on an auror mission, in which case Blaise was there to help. Blaise hadn’t moved home yet. Draco said he could, but Blaise said he liked living at Grimmauld Place better because he missed being around people. There were some nights Blaise went home, but he slept at Grimmauld more than he didn’t. Draco asked Harry if he minded but Harry only shrugged and said that it didn’t matter to him.

His mother had moved back home after two weeks of being at Grimmauld Place. Draco was very grateful that she went back home. He would always love his mother, but distance made the heart grow fonder. Draco wasn’t impressed the day after the funeral when his name and eulogy was in every single wizarding paper in the northern hemisphere. Thank you fucking Rita Skeeter. His mother claimed innocence since she didn’t know he was going to do any of that, but Draco called bullshit on the act. But they had reached some sort of understanding. Draco thought it might have been because Harry had talked to her. He couldn’t get either one to admit to anything other than a long conversation, but his mother treated him much better after that. Draco was still sort of disappointed it wasn’t a conversation he and his Mum had to change her mind, but at this point he was too tired to care.

Harry stood by his side the entire time. Through the emotional rollercoasters of yelling and crying, Harry hadn’t wavered. He spoke up when Draco was being a bit crazy and didn’t let Draco get away with being too sorry for himself. He was the hug when he felt down and the flick on the head when he needed to come back to reality. If he questioned his love for Harry before, he didn’t now. They were woven together even more tightly before, and Draco couldn’t quite imagine his life being anything else.

Pansy’s sentencing had been extremely difficult. She ended up settling before trial and Draco thanked Merlin for small mercies. But he still had to hear about what had happened. Watching his mother listen to it was more difficult than hearing it himself. It was obvious there was a line Narcissa thought Lucius wouldn’t cross—and cheating was it. Pansy claimed she was pregnant, but it turned out to be a bunch of bullshit to try to get out of Azkaban. So he would not have a half-sibling running around. Pansy was sentenced to seven years in Azkaban, with opportunities of parole after four years.

It was the night after Pansy got sentenced that Draco asked Harry an important question.

“Do you want kids?” Draco asked. They were lying in bed sweaty and satiated. Draco had cracked the window a bit, so the air felt cool on his back.

“Yeah.” Harry answered, his fingers running absent patterns along Draco’s back.

“How many?” Draco asked.

“At least two—maybe three.”

“I didn’t like being an only child.” Draco admitted, “Pansy claiming she was pregnant—I kept thinking if she were pregnant that I would take the child.” Harry moved a bit so they were looking at each other. Draco felt the need to defend himself, “Just that—my mum wasn’t—not that I don’t love her—I just wouldn’t want anyone to grow up in that house.” He frowned, “Not that it would happen like that, Pansy has parents too but I was just thinking.”

“We would have figured it out.” Harry said stubbornly, making Draco smile a bit. They were silent for a moment, Harry continued to move his fingers up Draco’s spine, “I picture that with you, you know?”

“Hm?” Draco opened his eyes, not sure what Harry was talking about. Harry’s green eyes were staring at Draco’s sternum.

“The future—having kids, getting married—all that stuff. I picture it with you.” He looked up at Draco a little sheepish.

“I picture that with you too.” Draco admitted. Harry’s smile took his breath away, “I’m not saying right now.”

“I know.” Harry said, kissing his lips, “I’m not either—I like how we are now. And it’s not like getting married would change anything other than a piece of paper.”

“And moving out would be a tad more difficult.” Draco teased, “Since I’d get the house.”

Harry snorted, “I like the idea of an eventually with you.” He wrapped his arm around Draco’s back, pulling him up to kiss him. Draco pulled him close, kissing him with sloppy wet kisses. When Harry’s hand gripped his bum, he winced.

“Ow.” Draco complained.

“Sorry.” Harry didn’t look sorry at all.

“You should be. I won’t be able to walk tomorrow. What is Aiden going to say?”

“That you shouldn’t have edged me for forty minutes and expected me not to fuck you like a crazy person.”

“Well that’s ridiculous, how would he know all that?”

Harry laughed, his head tossed back as he wiggled closer to Draco, pulling him on top, “But I am sorry if I went a little too crazy.”

“I wasn’t complaining.” Draco reminded him—and he definitely hadn’t been. Watching Harry’s body tense and fight itself for that long was ridiculously hot. Draco had watched Harry’s thighs bunch and try to relax, his shoulders, his abs. They had made it up to three ruined orgasms before Draco released Harry and told him to do his worst.

“You can fuck me in the morning.” Harry promised.

“How chivalrous of you.” Draco grinned.

“It’s a Gryffindor thing.”

Draco snorted, rolling his eyes, “If our children are all Gryffindors, I’ll leave you.”

Harry laughed, “I can’t control that.”

“Not my problem. I refuse to be left here alone.”

“Don’t be absurd, Blaise will probably still be living with us.”

“No—he’ll run away from all the Gryffindors.”

Harry laughed, wrapping his arms tightly around Draco.

 

Something changed between them after that night. They had never talked about the future so concretely before, but somehow planning their future together relaxed them both. Talking about feelings was something Meredith still encouraged. Draco was going to therapy regularly again, wondering why he ever stopped in the first place. He and Harry did some therapy together and some apart, but it definitely helped them navigate their relationship. It was difficult when Draco was too emotional to not to fall back on bad habits, and Harry would stubbornly protect Draco from his own feelings in the name of love. Draco felt like they wouldn’t be making it through this time so easily without her. Not that it had been easy, but it would have been much more difficult without Meredith to guide them.

“You checking the alcohol?” Harry asked, pressing up beside him.

“Yeah. George walked through here.”

“You check the amount?” Harry asked.

Draco frowned, “I don’t remember what I bought.”

“I think obliviating goes a bit too far”

“He didn’t obliviate me—I just grabbed bottles of wine to fill a case. I wasn’t really paying attention to anything other than blend.”

“Is there a type here you wouldn’t buy?”

Draco scowled, reading the labels, “You don’t think he walked through here just to make us paranoid?”

Harry laughed, “He might have.”

“Found it.” Draco smiled triumphantly as he grabbed a bottle of Riesling, “I would _never_ buy this.” Harry scratched his chest and Draco whacked his hand, “Don’t scratch at it.”

“It _itches_.” Harry complained. He had gotten another tattoo, much to Draco’s delight. He had gotten a snitch on his chest, filling in a blank space between his other tattoos.

“It will get infected if you keep doing that.”

Harry let out a sigh, “Hermione said I’m getting too many too fast.”

“Hermione doesn’t get a vote.” Draco said sternly, grabbing a bottle of wine to open first. He waved his wand to have the cork pop out, reaching over to take two glasses that had been set out on the counter for convenience.

“She thinks I got them to make you happy.” That made Draco stop, turning to Harry.

“Did you?” Draco asked.

“No! I mean, I like that you like me getting them, but it wasn’t like I went to France just to make you happy. I mean—er— I like making you happy, but this wasn’t for you.”

“Ok.” Draco said calmly to Harry’s flustered and angry stuttering. Harry sort of glared at him, which made Draco smile, “I believe you!” He laughed.

“I feel like—you are happy. I mean, I know there has been—you haven’t been great because of your Dad—but we’re good—right?” Harry blushed a bit. Draco weaved his fingers with Harry’s, stepped closer to him and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. Harry had the most brilliant smile on his face when Draco stepped back. When he got that look in his eye, Draco laughed.

“We have company.”

“We can step away for ten minutes.”

“If people weren’t so nosy.” Draco argued, “Everyone will know what we’ve been up to—and _ten minutes_?”

“Fine.” Harry grumbled, taking the other wine glass, “But I reserve the right to grope you through out the evening and maybe get some action once everyone gets drunk.”

Draco grinned, “Only if you behave.”

“I’ll be good, I promise.” Harry practically purred. They had been experimenting a bit more in the bedroom. Surprisingly, Harry had a huge praise kink that they had just begun to tap into. Draco thought since Harry was usually so adverse to praise that he wouldn’t like it. But while edging him, Draco had cooed how much of a good boy he was and Harry nearly split apart at the seams. Draco really liked being in charge when he felt like his life was spinning out of control, and Harry was more than willing to give up the reigns. It seemed like Harry was also more than willing to do research when it was about something he found interesting, so they both had read a few books to get some ideas for their sex life. Despite having difficulties talking about emotional things, they both found it easy to be honest about their sexual needs and aspirations.

Harry had made it clear that even though he liked Draco being in charge, he still loved to top. Not that he didn’t like bottoming either, but he didn’t want to give up being on top. Draco assured him that he didn’t have to give that up considering how much he liked to bottom too.

There had been some flops and some areas that had been a little difficult to work through. They found out the hard way that if Draco was too emotionally drained or if Harry was too tired, they should just fuck. There became this weird pressure to do something new and creative every time, but they worked through that bit too.

It had been a lot to learn in the last few weeks, but Draco wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Sammy” Draco greeted warmly as she stepped out of the floo, quickly followed by Sherry and Jonathan.

“Nice place.” Sammy said, looking around.

“Thanks, Harry did it—well, we both did the decorating.”

“I know. I helped you pick out some fabrics—this looks familiar actually.” She pointed at curtains.

“Well, can I get you guys something to drink?” Draco asked.

It was a bit awkward at first, mingling everyone together. Theo had a difficult time talking to anyone, and the crew from St. Mungo’s stuck to themselves for far too long. The entire Weasley crew had come along, as well as Neville, Seamus, Hannah, Luna and Rolf. Teddy was running around somewhere, with a slightly tipsy Andy in tow.

Games made everyone relax just a bit. Harry and Draco mixed up teams to make sure everyone co-mingled. And before too long, everyone was having a good time. Sherry thought George Weasley was positively hilarious. Molly had entirely way too much wine and couldn’t stop giggling even when nothing was happening. Arthur and John hit it off ras they apparently both have a weird fascination with muggle things.

Blaise hung out with Hermione. The two of them get along surprisingly well. Even Blaise would admit her business advice is unparalleled given that she is a Healer.

The only disappointment was that his mother did not come. Andy would have enjoyed her company at the very least. But Andy was quick to remind Draco that he couldn’t push Narcissa to join them, she had to want to come on her own.

When they got too drunk to be organized, the games dissolved into just socializing. It was loud and too many people spilled things. But with the amount of alcohol Draco had, he didn’t care too much. Though he might have mentioned each spill to Kreacher.

Seamus rigged up a set of speakers to run on magic. Draco sort of thought the older people would clear out when that started, but to his shock they all stayed—even when George started drinking games. Molly and Sherry were excellent at Quidditch pong partners. Arthur and Jonathan tried to hold their own against them, but lost miserably. They even beat George and Seamus, which might have been because Seamus was too drunk to be much help anyway.

Despite Harry telling him he would grope him all night, Harry was hardly by his side. One moment he was playing pong and the next he was playing King’s. Draco liked that about Harry— that he didn’t need Draco to constantly cling to him in social situations. Every once and awhile he would check in with Draco, but then let Draco do his own thing. It gave him opportunities to talk with Hermione and Sammy with a bottle of tequila in the kitchen.

“We’re going Christmas tree shopping tomorrow.” Draco told them both, pouring them each a shot, “I’ve become a domestic.”

“Looks good on you.” Sammy said with a grin.

“I make everything look good.” Draco said, rolling his eyes. Hermione and Sammy both laughed.

“Have you guys had any discussion about the future?” Hermione asked.

Draco blushed, “Yeah. We sort of talked about being married eventually, having kids.”

Sammy looked excited, “You going to adopt? Or have a surrogate? You know there’s that new procedure where they take your and Harry’s spunk and can have a child through a surrogate right? I was talking to Healer Mathews about it last week. They’ve had a high success rate, it’s about t-” Draco held his finger to her lips.

“That is about a thousands steps away from where we are.” Draco told her, his eyes a bit too big. He liked the idea of a hazy future together, but he wasn’t ready to iron out all the details yet. He would be eventually, just not yet. He took the tequila shot and then poured himself another one, “Plus we have to wait until after this one gets married.” Draco pointed at the rock on Hermione’s finger.

“I’m willing to share the spotlight.” Hermione said primly, taking her tequila shot.

“I’m not ready—neither is Harry. We’re still young.” Draco waved her off.

“But what if he proposed right now?” Sammy asked.

“He wouldn’t.” Draco said confidently. He knew Harry. He also knew Harry knew Draco. He didn’t want the engagement to be a surprise. Maybe the actual day, but he knew they would both agree they were ready before the question was asked, “Plus, I could be proposing to him! You don’t know.”

“No. I think Harry would do the asking.” Sammy said seriously before taking her tequila shot. Draco topped her off. Draco turned to Hermione.

“I do too—sorry Draco.”

Draco scrunched his nose, “You’re probably right.”

“How are you guys doing?” Hermione asked, “After everything.”

“Good.” Draco said with a slight smile, “Really good. He’s been patient—even when I don’t make much sense. Doesn’t get jealous when I sleep with Blaise.”

“You have sex with Blaise?” Sammy asked.

“NO!” Draco jumped, “No, fuck no. I just sometimes get mad and don’t sleep in our room. And I don’t particularly like sleeping alone, so I sleep in Blaise’s room.”

“Well, I just figured you were all having kinky sex with each other.” Sammy teased him.

“You did not.”

“Hey, not my place to judge.” Sammy held up her hands.

“No. Neither one of us is having sex with Blaise. He just lives here, sometimes.” Draco said with a laugh.

“But you both are good?” Hermione asked.

“Yes—why? What did Potter tell you?”

Hermione laughed, “Nothing, I’m genuinely asking.”

“Just because he got a new tattoo doesn’t mean—”

“I know.” Hermione said with a laugh, “Well, I know after I talked to him. He should probably slow down a bit though if he wants any skin left by the time he’s forty.”

“He will.” Draco said with a nod.

“I’ve never seen his tattoos.” Sammy said.

“I haven’t seen his new one.” Hermione added.

“Come on, I’ll show you.” Draco motioned for each of them to take their tequila shot. Hermione scrunched her nose before taking hers, Sammy and Draco were soon to follow, “They’re nice tattoos, done in only black and white.” He walked up the stairs with Hermione and Sammy following him.

“We don’t actually have to go look at them.” Sammy said, her face a bit red.

“Harry, they want to see your new tattoo.” Draco called to him. Harry was at the Quidditch pong table with John, playing against Sherry and Molly.

“Oh, course.” Harry pulled off his shirt. Seamus whistled at him, and Harry turned red, “Shut up Seamus.”

Draco whistled, which only made Harry turn a darker red.

“Not going to tell him to shut up are you?” George teased and Draco laughed.

“How many do you have now?” Seamus asked.

“Eight, if you count them individually. But a few he got at the same time.” Draco answered. The top of Harry’s chest was mostly covered since there was Prongs, a snitch, a scroll, a chess piece, a key with wings, and the words _expecto patronum_. Guinevere had made all the tattoos fit together beautifully. There was some space yet remaining, especially when the tattoos moved.

Hedwig was still Draco’s favorite.

“Such a beautiful boy, you don’t need to mark up your skin like that. I should have never let you and Charlie talk.” Molly shook her head.

“I think he’s still pretty.” Draco argued, and Molly laughed.

“Hadn’t seen that one.” Arthur pointed to Hedwig, “Beautifully done.”

“I picked that one out.” Draco said proudly.

“I didn’t realize you had so many.” Sammy said.

“Don’t get Granger started on it.” Draco rolled his eyes.

“I’ve read about it—getting tattoos is addictive.” Hermione said, but her finger was tracing the wings of the new snitch tattoo. Sammy was standing back a bit, staring from a safe distance.

“And pretty.” Draco argued.

Harry snorted, “And pretty.”

“You have plans for more?” John asked.

“Yeah.” Harry smiled, “Lots more.” He pulled on his long sleeve shirt again.

“You’ll have to stop getting injured as much, don’t want to ruin them.” Sherry said, making everyone in the room laugh.

“Speech!” George yelled, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“I’m not giving a speech—and what for?”

“Not going to christen your house?” Greg asked, his words so slurred together that he had to repeat it so that everyone could understand him.

“I’m sure they already did that.” Theo replied. Draco winked at him, standing on a small ottoman.

“Harry, you’re going to have to let me be in the spot light for a moment.” Draco started. The rueful look Harry gave him made Draco smile, “Thank you everyone for coming. If you haven’t had a tequila shot yet, please direct yourself to the kitchen—which is down those set of steps.” There were some chuckles. He looked out to everyone who was gathered in his living room, “Harry and I want to thank you for all the support over the past year, even those of you we had to win over. And thank you for coming to help support me over the past few weeks. It’s been difficult—and I know _I’ve_ been difficult.” He quirked a smile so everyone knew they could smile too, “Harry, in typical savior fashion, has won the competition as he has had things thrown at him and still sleeps with me.”

Blaise let out a wolf whistle and Harry blushed a bit as everyone cheered, “But believe me, I wrote down everyone who took him in while I was angry and I will be exacting my revenge soon.” He gave a pointed look to Molly Weasley and everyone laughed, “Thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate us living together and not killing each other. If all goes well, we should be living here for quite sometime. So we expect lots of visits, lots of support, and lots of love. And if you throw up please do so in the bathroom.”

“To Harry and Draco!” George held up his glass. They held up their glasses in salute and taking a sip. Draco stepped down off the ottoman and into Harry’s waiting arms.

“You’re much better at speech giving than I am.” Harry complimented, setting his drink down. Some clinked their glass and suddenly the room was chiming.

“KISS HIM!” Seamus yelled.

Draco rolled his eyes, “We will _not_ be—” Draco didn’t get the rest of the sentence out before Harry latched onto his lips. His strong hands wrapped around Draco’s back, dipping Draco down a bit dramatically as their lips locked. Draco couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss, holding Harry tight as he was dipped down.

“Alright—alright.” Draco waved them off, kissing Harry once more now that he was standing upright again, “Go win at Quidditch Pong.”

“What will you give me if I do?”

“To fuck me.”

Harry snorted, “You’re pretty drunk, I think the odds are in my favor either way.”

“Your turn Harry!” Sherry called to him. Harry placed another sloppy kiss on Draco’s lips before running off.

 

Draco ended up getting caught in another game, sitting between Sammy and George— who might have been eye fucking each other like he wasn’t right between them. The night kept going and people kept drinking. Seamus passed out on the living room rug, right in front of the floo. His shoes still on and everything. Neville was slouched up against the wall and would insist that he wasn’t asleep every time Draco poked him.

When Kreacher brought out pizza a little after one in the morning, he was the hero of the party. He barely had a chance to put the pizza down before grabbing hands reached for slices.

“ _Kreacher I love you_ ,” George started singing.

“ _Kreacher I do!_ ” Hermione, Harry, Ron and George all sang together, “ _When we’re apart my heart beats only for you!”_ They dissolved into a fit of giggles. Draco wasn’t sure what they were going on about, clearly some inside joke known only to them. Draco couldn’t help but smile as he watched Harry drunkenly laugh, leaning much to heavily on Hermione.

“Fuck this is hot!” George yelled, his mouth open and his tongue sticking out.

“It just came out of the oven!” Kreacher snapped at him, “Mister George should be more careful.”

“Mr. George doesn’t _want_ to be careful.” George retorted, having another bite.

It was probably the best pizza Draco had ever eaten, despite burning his mouth.

“We’re going to take our slices to go.” Arthur said, taking a few, “I think Molly is ready for bed.”

“I’m ok.” She looked a little more than plastered. Arthur guided Molly around Seamus to get into the floo.

“Goodnight everyone!” Arthur called before throwing floo powder.

“This old lady is taking her slices to go as well.” Sherry grabbed one, “It’s been a pleasure.”

“Night Sherry!”

John and Andy left as well. Andy grabbed Teddy from one of the upstairs bedrooms before leaving. Apparently he had been put to bed in one of the guest rooms a few hours before, but Draco had no idea. Luna and Rolf said their goodbyes. Hannah and Neville went home too—together. Which Draco didn’t know was a thing. But Neville had been practically comatose, so there was no way that Hannah was doing anything but putting him to bed. Harry was pretty drunk as well. His words slurred between bites of pizza.

“I think it might be time for us to go as well.” Hermione said, looking at Ron who had passed out with pizza in his hand. Draco burst out laughing.

“I am going to go back to my flat” George announced, “Sammy you coming with me?” Draco couldn’t believe George asked flat out—but then again it _was_ George.

“I—yeah sure.” Sammy grabbed another slice as she stood up.

“Night everyone!” George called with a waggle of his brows as he stepped into the floo with Sammy.

“We have an extra bedroom if you want.” Harry said to Hermione, “Then you can just float him upstairs.”

“I’ll do that.” Hermione nodded, “I don’t think the floo would be fun right now anyway.” Her words were slurring a bit too, so it was for the best she didn’t take the floo.

“Blaise, you staying over?” Draco asked.

“Yes, I heard we’re doing all the kinky sex things.” Blaise waggled his eyebrows as Hermione laughed.

“Who told you that?” Draco asked.

“Sammy confessed.” Theo answered, shaking his head with a laugh, “I told her that Draco and I were _very sure_ Blaise doesn’t like cock.”

“Just not my thing.” Blaise said with a laugh.

“It should be everyone’s thing.” Theo said with a grin and everyone—at least everyone awake— laughed. Ron was still passed out.

“Where’s Greg?” Draco asked.

“Passed out on the couch. With a freshening charm so he won’t smell it up.” Blaise said, grabbing another slice.

“Did he throw up?” Draco asked.

“Yeah, didn’t hit the couch though. Kreacher and I cleaned it.” Harry said.

“You helped?”

“Yeah. I figured it’d be better if I dealt with it.” Harry shrugged.

“He isn’t wrong.” Theo wrinkled his nose as he polished off his slice.

“Kreacher is wondering if Master wants any more food?” Kreacher looked a bit too pleased. There was a gleam in his eyes, like he was glad he was finally useful.

“No thank you Kreacher.” Draco said.

“Speak for yourself—I’ll have mozzarella sticks—oh maybe some chicken fingers!” Harry said excitedly.

“I’ll have that.” Blaise pointed to Harry and Theo was nodding.

“Kreacher will bring up more food for Masters.” He cracked away.

“We’re going to go to bed.” Hermione looked to Ron, “Well, I’m going to put him in a real bed.”

“I’m in the big bedroom on the third floor.” Blaise said.

“You’ll have to go up to the fourth to find another bedroom, all the others are converted into larger offices.” Harry said.

“You have an office here?” Hermione asked, incredulous.

“And he uses it.” Draco nodded, “Not like me though.”

“No—not all of us have potions experiments we need to do.” Harry grinned at him.

“Well goodnight everyone.” Hermione waved her wand. Ron started floating up the steps, pizza in hand.

“Night Mione.”

“Goodnight Hermione.”

“And then there were four.” Blaise said with a grin.

Draco was excited when more food was set out. He hadn’t wanted anything, but now that it was in front of him, he wanted to eat all of it. Chicken fingers were the most amazing drunk food, in Draco’s opinion. He scarfed up everything he could get his hands on, which was difficult with three other equally as drunk people.

“Merlin that was good.” Harry said, lying back on the ground.

“Nu-uh. You’re not sleeping down here.” Draco poked him.

“I won’t.” He promised, but his eyes were fluttering shut.

“Come on.” Draco stood up, “We’re going to bed.”

“Fine.” Harry grumbled, standing up.

“Night—Blaise? I trust you can find somewhere for Theo?”

“When have I been downgraded from guest to roommate?” Blaise sounded offended, but Draco knew better.

“When you started spending seven nights here out of ten.” Harry answered, his foot on the steps to go up stairs, “Fuck. I don’t want to climb all these steps.”

“Come on, we’ll work off those chicken fingers.” Draco said, slapping his bum.

“Those were a great life choice.” Harry said proudly, “Did you tell Kreacher to clean up in the morning?” He asked as he climbed the stairs, Draco a step behind him.

“Yes, of course.”

“It’s not too bad—I cleaned the kitchen too.”

“ _When?_ ” Draco asked, heaving a bit as they started the next set of steps.

“Um—I dunno what you were doing.” Harry answered, “I don’t know if I have the energy to fuck.” He leaned against the wall, his hands on his hips, “I don’t think I’ll make it up the steps.”

Draco laughed, “Come on, you can fuck me in the morning.”

Harry grinned, “Ok.” His eyes were a bit hazy.

“You’re pissed.”

“Yes.” Harry answered, nodding a bit too aggressively, “Why aren’t you? You took a _million_ tequila shots.”

Draco threw Harry’s arm over his shoulder as they walked up another flight of steps, “I stopped drinking a few hours ago—I’m still drunk, just not as much as you apparently.” Harry laughed to himself as they walked up the steps. It took forever, but they finally tumbled into their bedroom.

“Oh I can’t wait to get into bed.” Draco said as he closed their bedroom door. 

“That’s _right_.” Harry purred, like he had forgotten the conversation they _just_ had. But he was drunk, Draco just rolled his eyes.

“I am passing out, I have no idea what you’re going to do.” Draco said, taking off his shirt and then his slacks. He walked into the closet to put everything away. When he came back out, Harry was still standing there.

“What are you doing?” Draco asked.

“I can’t get it off.” He frowned, looking down at his shirt.

“Did you _try_?” Draco asked before he went ahead and pulled Harry's shirt off.

“My _jeans_ —I couldn’t get them off. The button is being stupid.” Harry informed him, which made Draco giggle.

“Is this some sort of line?”

“No—I was thinking about having sex with you, but I honestly don’t think my dick will stand up.” Harry told him matter-of-factly. His green eyes a bit glassed over. Draco unbuttoned him with a bit of difficulty, sliding Harry’s jeans to the floor. He helped Harry pick one foot up and then the other, like he was helping Teddy get undressed.

“I’ll go put your clothes away, why don’t you get in bed.” Draco pat his calf, before standing back up.

“You’re always too _nice_ to me.” Harry told him as Draco put Harry's clothes away.

“What?” Draco asked with a snort, coming back into the bedroom.

“You put away my clothes, you clean all the time.” Harry informed him as Draco climbed into bed next to him, “You’re too nice to me.”

“Potter, I threw a book at you yesterday when you walked into my lab.”

“Yeah—but that’s different.”

“Whatever you say Harry.” Draco rolled his eyes, turning on his pillow a bit. He cried out when Harry shoved him, “What the hell was that for?”

“You aren’t being serious!” Harry cried out. Draco wanted to laugh, but knew Harry in his drunken fit wouldn’t find him laughing funny either. He found this particular fit endearing.

Draco pulled Harry to him with a smile on his face, gasping a bit when he practically fell on top of him, “Harry. I love you more than you can ever possibly understand. I will love you even when you’re old and grey—and probably bald.”

“Promise?” Harry asked, his voice soft despite his last comment.

“I promise.” Draco said.

Harry smiled brilliantly, “Out of the two of us, I don’t think I’m the one who has to worry about going bald.”

Draco scowled, “You take that back unless you want me to go and have whatever weird kinky sex we’re having with Blaise.”

Harry practically wrapped himself around Draco, like Devil’s Snare. Draco only pretended to struggle a bit before he relaxed.

“I love you too.” Harry kissed his jaw, “More than you’ll ever understand.”

Draco grinned back, squeezing Harry tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is taken from the movie Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, when Ron is talking about Viktor Crum at the Quidditch World Cup.
> 
> Come say hi to me on Tumblr. Help me calm down [Caedes12](https://caedes12.tumblr.com/) I like to write lots of stuff about my thought process. So if that interests you.... and if not than still come say hi too.


	32. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tale of two dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Blows air horn* Finally. After much delay *air horn* and fanfare *airhorn* the EPILOGUE. I looked at it, and I've been writing this story for nine months ish. Which just seems crazy. Where does the time go? 
> 
> The support and love from everyone has been nothing short of mind boggling. Your comments make doing this so worth it. Especially when I was stuck and didn't feel like writing another word. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 
> 
> ALSO. I might add a one shot or two to the story later. Maybe. Probably. We'll see. 
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Smut

Draco took off his shoes almost as soon as he got out of the floo. He ran his fingers through his hand and couldn’t help but stare at the silver band on his left ring finger.

He had a _fiancée_.

Harry had asked him in June. They had gone to the beach for the weekend, as just a quick get away. Draco had been working tirelessly to get his new potion through trial phases and ready for werewolves; Harry had been promoted to Deputy Head Auror. Draco’s head had been spinning from how busy he was, he hadn’t really thought twice about the trip. Though he had given Harry the green light to ask a few months previous, no alarm bells went up when Harry had booked the house by the beach.

When he arrived to the house that day in June, Harry had a romantic dinner for the two of them. And it never crossed Draco’s mind that Harry would ask the question. They ate slowly, chatting and laughing about their days—weeks really since it felt like they had hardly seen each other. When Harry finally got around to asking, Draco had jumped out of his chair.

“Holy shit.” Draco couldn’t really breathe.

Harry laughed as he pulled out a small black box, “I love you Draco. I know that I want to spend the rest of my life fighting our ridiculously busy schedules to spend time with you. Will you please marry me?”

Draco had tackled him, which ended up with both of them having several bruises. Harry laughed on the ground, pinned beneath Draco as Draco kissed his face.

Draco cupped Harry’s cheeks, kneeling over him, “Yes.”

Harry pushed him a bit so he could sit up, and then grabbed the black velvet box. He opened it to reveal a simple platinum wedding band. Draco had told Harry he wanted silver, he looked better with cooler tones and was much more inclined to wear silver than gold. It was clearly of high quality and looked spectacular. Harry slid on the band.

“Did you get yourself one?” Draco asked. That was something they talked about, that they would both wear engagement rings.

“No, but we have an appointment tomorrow where we can pick one out together for me.” Harry said, and Draco smiled.

“I love you.” Draco whispered, letting his thumb run along the ring.

“I love you.” Harry responded, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, “You really didn’t see it coming?”

“No!” Draco swatted his arm, “I’ve been busy; I’ve been trying to get my potion through the trial period.”

“I know—I just thought it was all a bit obvious—or I was being obvious.” Harry blushed.

“I didn’t notice.” Draco told him.

“Some auror you’d be.”

“Shut up Mr. Deputy Head Auror—not all of us get to be the youngest one in a _century_.”

“Shut up.” Harry blushed. But he kissed Draco silly to keep him quiet.

 

They would be married at thirty, which Draco thought was a perfectly respectable age to get married. Witch Weekly had made a big deal that they were engaged at twenty nine, but would they get married the same year so they could be married before the ominous thirty? It was ridiculous. And Draco had no intention of planning a wedding within a year. It was sort of silly, but they were planning their wedding for October of the following year, so their wedding anniversary would be on the same date as their current anniversary. Their seven year anniversary was why Draco had come home early from work. Harry had something planned—he was being a bit sneaky about it. They had been together for seven years. Draco couldn’t believe it. He had been with Harry for as many years as he _should_ have gone to Hogwarts.

“Harry?” He called out. The house was dark, which was odd, especially if Potter was left to his own devices. He had every light on like he was occupying every room at once.

“I’ll be right down!” Harry yelled from somewhere in the house. Draco couldn’t quite tell what floor he was on. He heard a loud bang.

“I hope you didn’t break anything!” Draco hollered back.

“No!” Harry replied a bit too quickly, so Draco was nearly certain he wasn’t being honest. He waited a bit and then heard Harry coming down the steps, “Hey.” He smiled brightly when he saw him, kissing Draco on the lips.

“Do you want to tell me what I’m doing home?” Draco asked.

“No.” Harry’s grin turned too bright and mischievous.

Draco just scowled, “I don’t understand why you like surprising me.”

“I like watching you squirm.” Harry batted his eyelashes, which brought a reluctant smirk to Draco’s face.

“Not as much as I like watching you.” Draco said, “Now what are we doing?”

“I have a bag packed.” Harry was actually quite good at packing for Draco, much to his annoyance. It made it easier for him to do things like this. He must have made a face, because Harry laughed, “I think you secretly enjoy this.”

“I do not.” Draco assured him.

“Come on, we have to get a portkey.”

“Merlin help me.” Draco sighed, turning toward the door. Harry slung the black bag over his shoulder and made his way to the door. It was a small bag with an undetectable extension charm, packed for both of them. He looked a bit nervously excited as they walked out the door, “I don’t know what your anxious about Harry. You already proposed.”

“And you said yes.” Harry reminded him, taking his left hand. Harry rubbed the band with his thumb, because he was a sentimental prat.

“You better have put the portkey close, I’m not walking _forever_ —”

“One time!” Harry interrupted, “I did that one time and it was four years ago!”

“Only takes once—and really?” Draco laughed, “I think we have to break up, we’ve been together too long.”

Harry snorted, “You’re going to think back at this and laugh when we’re fifty.”

Draco scowled, “I plan on staying this young forever. I’ll turn thirty and that’s it—not more aging for me.”

Harry laughed, “Come on princess.”

“That is princess stereotyping.” Draco huffed indignantly, which only made Harry role his eyes. They walked around the corner to see an old rain boot.

“This is us.” Harry touched the corner of the boot and Draco grabbed the other side. It was only a moment before they were both pulled off.

 

Draco recognized where they were as soon as they landed. He smiled brightly at Harry.

“You’re getting another tattoo?” He hadn’t gotten one in two years, and it had been the only addition since moving into Grimmauld place six years ago. Despite being a bit dramatic, Hermione’s words had an effect on Harry. He slowed down on his tattoos. The only one he had added was a beautiful minimalistic drawing of Hogwarts on his back between Hedwig and the phoenix.

“That, and we have a flat here for the weekend.” Harry said, squeezing his hand. Draco kissed Harry’s lips.

“A weekend in Paris is what I needed.” Draco told him.

“Come on.” Harry pulled him along. Draco wanted to skip he was so excited—that and fuck him. They both had looked over designs over the years, chatting about which ones Harry should get eventually. He was excited to see which one Harry would choose. There were a few designs of a black dog for Sirius, a werewolf for Lupin, the sword of Gryffindor and a few others. Draco hoped he wouldn’t be getting the sword on their anniversary, but he didn’t care too much.

“What are you going to get?” Draco asked as they walked up to Guinevere’s tattoo shop.

“I’ll show you.” Harry encouraged him a bit shakily up the steps.

“’Arry! Is that you?” She called as he opened the door.

“It’s me.” Harry responded. The buzzing sound of the machine stopped and she bounded around the corner, hugging him tightly.

“It haz been too long.” She kissed his cheeks, “And Draco!” She kissed his cheeks too, “I saw ze paperz—even ‘ere it waz all over that you two were affianced.” She took his hand to see the ring, “Oh! C'est magnifique!”

“Merci.” Draco responded.

“You ‘ave good taste.” She told Harry.

“I know.” Harry was looking at Draco, because he was _still_ a sentimental prat.

“Let me go vinish up, then I will be wiz you next.” She said, leaving them be. Harry took Draco’s hand and pulled him close.

“You going to tell me what you’re getting now?” Draco asked.

“No. I’ll wait until she shows you the designs.” Harry spoke softly since they were centimeters away from each other. Draco pouted, which only made Harry laugh before kissing him. The buzzing stopped and there was chattering in French as a woman came up to the front counter and paid for her new tattoo. She smiled brightly at the two of them before walking out.

“’As he told you what he wants?” Guinevere asked Draco.

“No. He is being very secretive, but he enjoys surprising me.” Draco answered, following her back into the studio. Harry had taken a step back, which was a classic sign he was nervous. Draco didn’t quite understand.

She chuckled as she motioned to her designs, “They are for ze left arm, as a partial sleeve.” She told Draco, “So ze are designed to be wrapped around ze arm.” Draco turned to the grey scale designs and paused. It was of a Hungarian Horntail, as a testament to his fourth year. But in case Draco had any question that it was about him, each sketch had chinks in their scales. At first glance, it might look like battle wounds as a part of the design, but the chinks were in the formation of _his_ constellation. A dragon.

All the blood drained from Draco’s face, he stared at the tattoos and blinked a few times. He wrapped one arm around himself and held the other to his mouth. Tears came to his eyes as he stared at them.

“I’ll give you two a moment.” Guinevere said, stepping out of the room.

“Draco?” Harry called to him.

Draco made a choked sob sound, “ _Harry_.”

“I didn’t choose this to make you cry.” Harry joked, wrapping his arms around him tightly.

“This—this is _permanent_.” Draco reminded him.

“There are spells to remove tattoos—they’re just painful. And I know that—I just want you to know that I love you.”

“I know that Harry.” Draco wiped a few tears off his cheeks. Harry kissed him, warming Draco’s entire body up. There was nothing quite like Harry pressed up against him, his strong auror arms wrapped around his waist. Draco’s toes curled as Harry’s tongue pushed into his mouth. _His taste_. Draco would never get enough. Because this was the two of them, and they were forever. Not in an idealistic way, but in a messy way. Because they would stay together and fight through their issues. They were both too stubborn to do anything different, “I don’t need it.” Draco told him, “I don’t need the tattoo to know that you love me.”

And he did know Harry loved him. Over the years, Meredith had been a staple in both of their lives. Draco firmly believed every couple should go to therapy. Arguments diminished before they even escalated, but they also both worked on communicating their emotions better. Draco tended to be bottled up because his family demanded it, and Harry was bottled up because his family never showed him any sympathy. The more they talked, the easier it went. So Draco knew without question that Harry loved him.

“I know.” Harry replied, sounding very assured, “But Hermione and Ron have their own tattoos—I want you to have yours.”

Draco gave a watery smiled, “Ok.”

Harry pulled him closer to the designs, “Which one?”

“You’re going to help me pick.” Draco told him. Harry kissed him again, and Draco practically melted into the kiss. He couldn’t quite believe this was his life, that this was happening.

They debated over them for a few minutes. Guinevere offered to pull pieces from each design in order to make them happy. The end result was perfection. She explained that if Harry had done this the muggle way, it would take several sessions. But because of magic, she was able to get it done in one.

Harry sat on the stool with his left arm toward Guinevere. Draco took his right hand between his two hands and held it.

After she put on the stencil and pulled out the equipment, Draco tugged his hand, “Last chance to back out.”

Harry snorted, “Never.”

The buzzing started and Draco had to look away. He blinked a lot to keep the tears from falling. He wasn’t sure why he was acting like such a bloody Hufflepuff about all this. Harry squeezed his hand back, so Draco took his hand to his lips and kissed his palm lightly. He quirked a grin at Potter, who easily smiled back. And even after all this time, the butterflies in his stomach fluttered at the look.

“And ze paperz are saying you two are fighting.” Guinevere teased.

Draco chortled, “They don’t know their arse from their elbow.”

“This isn’t even the most ridiculous article I’ve read about us.” Harry shook his head. Harry had a weird fascination about reading all the articles about them. Draco would just read the more ridiculous ones for the laughs.

“Which one?” Draco asked.

“The one where you have secret Veela heritage and I am caught in your influence.” Harry said.

Draco shook his head, “I liked the four page article in Witch Weekly dissecting who bottoms.”

Guinevere cackled at that one, “What did zey conclude?”

“They said I’m the top.” Draco smirked.

Harry rolled his eyes, “I think I’d win if we actually tallied it up—but it’d be a close call.”

“But I’m in charge most.” Draco countered.

“Power bottom.” Guinevere waggled her eyebrows, leaning over her work a bit more.

“Merlin, you’d make a fortune if you sold this.” Harry said.

“Good zing you will give me one for ze tattoo.” She smirked and Draco laughed, “Are ze threesome rumors true?”

“Everyone always thinks we’re way more interesting than what we are.” Harry told her with a roll of his eyes.

“No on the sex dungeon?” She batted her eyelashes and made Harry laugh.

“I begged him to change one of the rooms, but he said no.” Draco said with a dramatic sigh, and they both laughed.

“Pity—I love a good BDSM dungeon.” She winked.

“I’d say we’re more kinky than into BDSM.” Draco qualified.

“She doesn’t need to know that.” Harry’s cheeks were a bit red.

“Harry gets uncomfortable talking about sex.” Draco informed her.

“Very British of you.” She told Harry.

They chatted on as Harry sat getting the tattoo. Every once and awhile Guinevere would ask if Harry was alright, but he would always nod and so she would continue. Draco didn’t let go of Harry’s hand the entire time. He would sometimes stand up a bit and take a peak at his other arm, then sit back down.

It took a few hours, but finally the buzzing stopped. Draco stood up to see Guinevere take her wand out, then frowned.

“You should do it.” She told Draco, “Ze spell to activate the tattoo.”

“Why?”

“It will take on more of your characteristics.” She moved a bit so Draco could stand next to her.

“Shouldn’t a professional be doing this? I don’t want to fuck it up.”

“You won’t fuck it up.” Harry said.

“It iz very simple.” She assured him, “Just takes a feeling—and then say _animare_.” Draco bit his lip, his heart was pounding.

“Is there something I can practice on?” Draco asked.

“We can do a small tattoo on him—if that iz alright ‘Arry—if not I can do it on myself.”

“No—you can do foot prints.” Harry said, “On my back.” Draco knew he was talking about the Map. Draco did a quick sketch for Guinevere to show her what they looked like on the Map; Guinevere free handed them on Harry’s back.

_“Animare_.” Draco whispered, twisting his wand as Guinevere showed him. The footprints shook a bit, like they were getting something off of them, and then started walking around.

“Parfait!” Guinevere clapped her hands, “Now ze Dragon.”

Draco was still nervous when he turned to the dragon, “You can do it Draco.” Harry said softly.

“If I fuck it up, it’s your fault.” Draco informed him, kissing his lips chastely.

“Go on.” Harry encouraged.

Draco thought about how much he loved Harry, how much this tattoo meant to him. Draco may have abandonment issues, but he _knew_ Harry would never let Draco walk away like Draco's parents had done. Because Harry _loved_ him, just as much as he loved Harry. “ _Animare_.” Draco whispered it.

The Dragon immediately stretched out its wings, fluttering them as he adjusted his grip. He turned to look around, his grey eyes staring into Draco’s own. It was strange, but it was like they recognized each other. The dragon huffed smoke and it curled up Harry’s arm and disappeared. The Dragon further turned his gaze to Guinevere. He narrowed his gaze before giving a silent roar. His wings furled out in a protective stance.

Guinevere chuckled, “I won’t steal your man. I promise.” She told Draco. Draco smiled back at her innocently, “You better put ze bandage on, I do not zink he vill let me.” She pointed at the dragon before grabbing the special tattoo bandage.

Draco took the bandage and very carefully placed it on Harry’s arm. He murmured the spell to activate it, and it conformed perfectly to his arm and the tattoo. Through the clear wrap, he could still see the dragon staring at him. Draco felt tears well up before he could control it. This man whom he had to _constantly_ remind to pick up his clothes because Draco wasn’t a bloody house-elf. The one that stole his nice boxers. The man who made sure at every public event, no one smeared him for his past. Who took him to his father’s grave when he was finally ready and held his hand the entire time he cried. The man who Draco yelled at when he just walked right into his office like Draco didn’t have a million other things to do. Who worked entirely too hard and sacrificed himself too much. This man was all _his_. All Draco’s.

“You know I’m permanent, right?” Draco asked Harry.

Harry looked emotional as well, his green eyes a bit too bright, “I know.”

“C'est trop mignon. Mon coeur est plein.” Guinevere looked a bit like she was going to cry herself, “You must come back when it iz ‘ealed. I want a picture!” She pointed at her wall that was covered in photographs of her work.

“Thank you Guinevere. It is wonderful.” Harry said genuinely.

“It iz always a pleasure.” She assured him, “Come back soon, no?” She winked.

“It depends on what Hermione says.” Draco gave a look to Harry.

“It does not!” Harry huffed, “And she _is_ usually right about things.”

“From lovers to quarrelers in moments.” Guinevere sighed, Draco and Harry both laughed.

“Have a good rest of your evening Guinevere.” Draco told her as Harry settled the bill.

“You too.” She waved them out the door. Harry pulled on his coat and Draco sighed regretfully as he did. They both were silent as they walked out the stairs and onto the street.

“What do you want for dinner?” Harry asked, weaving his fingers between Draco’s.

“I want to go get wine, cheese and some prosciutto—and then I want you to fuck me all night.” Draco told Harry.

 

They walked into the hotel room later that evening with a brown bag full of food. Rain had started pouring down during the last fifty meters of their walk, but it sounded lovely now that they were inside. Draco flipped on a light switch of their hotel room, pushing back his wet hair. There were large floor to ceiling windows looking over the city. The curtains were drawn back to see the grey city as it got rained on.

“Is the food safe?” He asked Harry.

“Yes. The brown bag protected it.” Harry told him, placing it on a small table, “Is the wine safe?” Draco was holding a bag with two bottles of wine in it. He placed it down next to the grocery bag.

“Safe.” He assured Harry.

He pulled on one of Harry’s belt loops a bit, so he stepped closer.

“Want to eat?”

“No.” Draco replied. The kiss was soft, but full of promise. Draco slipped his thumb beneath Harry’s shirt, rubbing the bit of skin on his hip.

“Wait.” Harry said, with a slight grin.

“Merlin, you’re going to do something romantic aren’t you.”

“It’s our anniversary!” He argued, going to the small black bag.

“Harry you got a tattoo of a dragon on your arm, I don’t think I can handle any more romantic things.” Draco said flatly. Harry laughed, pulling out his wand and waving about twenty candles around the room. They floated into random areas and all lit with a flick of his wrist. He then waved his wand again and the overhead lights went out.

Draco had to admit it looked gorgeous. The soft candle light with the remaining grey evening light outside gave Harry a glow.

“Now can you fuck me?” Draco whispered into his jaw, kissing his neck.

“Yes.” Harry easily agreed. He nudged his lips closer to Draco’s and kissed him like he meant it. Draco felt like fire scorched through him as Harry pulled him close. Harry’s strong arms easily picked him up, and Draco wrapped his legs around his waist. He loved when Harry man handled him. It might make him a bit superficial, but Draco loved when Harry showed off how strong he was by picking him up. It made him feel safe and protected—wanted. Harry’s arms wrapped around his back as he kissed him, like he was in a cocoon. Despite the cold rain, Draco felt heat radiating from Harry.

Harry carried them over to the bed, setting Draco down slowly and crawling over top of him. Draco heard Harry’s shoes hit the floor, so he flipped off his own before sliding up the bed.

He could spend hours just kissing Harry—tasting him. He tasted like all Draco ever wanted. He wove his fingers through Harry’s thick hair. _Closer_. Draco had to push him away a bit for him to take off his jacket, but he didn’t want to. He pushed up into Harry, who was straddling Draco’s hips. Harry tossed his coat aside and then pulled off his t-shirt.

“You’re making a mess.” Draco complained, because he always did.

“It’s not our bedroom.” Harry smirked, unbuttoning Draco’s shirt. He leaned in and kissed the edge of his jaw, his short beard tickling him as he made his way down to Draco’s neck. He nipped at his jugular, and Draco arched his neck a bit to keep him there. His neck was sensitive, and the scratchiness of Harry’s beard always drove him a bit wild.

Harry would go through phases of his beard. He would have it for a few months and one morning Draco would come down for breakfast to find it gone. But since he could grow it out so quickly, it had never mattered much when he decided to shave it. Draco couldn’t help the gasp as Harry nibbled at his collarbone, placing kisses after the quick swipe of his teeth.

Draco loved getting hard like this. It was the lazy sort of arousal you didn’t notice until it was consuming you. Harry moved slow, down his chest, a flat tongue rolled over his nipple, causing sparks to go down his spine. His hands moved down Draco’s chest, his calloused fingers leaving fire in their wake. They always gripped him _perfectly_ , with just enough strength to feel it but not too much to hurt. Harry flipped open Draco’s belt with his right hand, his left rubbing along the outside. He wasn’t completely hard yet, but the strokes through his clothes held promise.

“Butt up.” Harry told him after he unbuttoned his trousers. Draco lifted up and Harry pulled off his slacks. He did get up and place them carefully on a chair, “Shirt?” Draco sat up and pulled off his shirt.

This was Harry too. The one that always put Draco’s clothes carefully aside, though he teased him relentlessly for it. Draco swung his legs toward the end of the bed, watching Harry walk back toward him. There was something about him in jeans and bare feet that turned Draco on. Draco pulled on the elastic band of his boxers.

“These are mine.” Draco told Harry, kissing up the front of his chest.

“Yours are just so much more _comfortable_.” Harry moaned as Draco gripped his arse with both hands. He nudged Draco back to crawl on top of him.

“No—off.” Draco pulled his belt loop before unbuttoning his jeans. He just smelled so much like _Harry_. There was the smell of wood chips and varnish; Harry always seemed to have another project going on that required him to woodwork. He had re-done several areas of their house over the years just for fun. He had also worked on parts of several friends’ houses. Harry certainly had a talent. During one particular down time between projects, Harry was rambunctious and _kept bothering him_ in his office. Draco suggested he flip houses. He had gone on to flip four wizarding houses since Draco’s suggestion. It was the perfect way to de-stress, according to Harry.

He smelled a bit of sweat too, but Draco liked that the best. Draco unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down. He ran his fingers up Harry’s thighs, gripping his arse again.

“Sit back and flip over—I want your arse.” Harry told him. Draco smiled up at him before obliging. He wiggled out of his pants and Harry pulled them the rest of the way off.

Draco rolled over onto his stomach, arching his back as he sat up on his knees with his head in his hands. After so many years together, he didn’t feel self-conscious. He heard the smack before he felt it.

“Ow!” He cried out, flushed as he turned around to look at Harry. Harry had a smirk on his face, “You’re not supposed to spank me on our anniversary.”

“I think that’s exactly when I’m supposed to spank you.” Harry said with a waggle of his brows.

“Fuck off.” Draco pouted, “I thought you were supposed to romance me.”

“I thought you couldn’t take any more romance.” Harry smacked his arse again, rubbing the smart with his hand afterword.

“Now he listens.” Draco said with a frown. Harry laughed loudly, leaning over Draco to kiss his shoulder, then between his shoulder blades. He took his sweet time kissing down his back, his fingers dragging along Draco’s thighs, “Harry.” His name came out breathless.

Harry didn’t hesitate after that. His tongue swiped over his hole and Draco fell apart. He always did when Harry gave him a rim job. Draco was pretty sure Harry knew it because he used it when he wanted Draco to _shut up_. Usually when Draco was mad at him when he _told Harry not to do something_ and then he _went ahead and did it anyway_.

Draco still firmly believed that Harry should be awarded another Order of Merlin for Arse-licking. The roughness of his beard made Draco’s toes curl. Potter’s fingers held his arse open, grasping and moving around slightly to make him tingle. Harry must have grabbed lube at some point, because one slicked finger went inside him. Draco couldn’t quite help the loud moan.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside you.” Harry moaned, kissing the knob above his arse. It was something Draco made Harry do occasionally— wait to be inside him. He’d make Harry fuck him with a dildo slowly, staring at his arse until he was begging to be inside. Then Draco would oblige, “No teasing tonight.” Harry told Draco firmly, like he was thinking about the same thing Draco was.

“Fine, then use two fingers and your tongue again.” Draco told him. Harry snorted, but listened. Draco bit his lip to keep from crying out as Harry licked him. The two fingers curled up against his prostate, the steady and smooth pace made Draco’s breathing accelerate as he clutched the sheets. His cock throbbed between his legs, but he didn’t rub it against the sheets. He wanted the torture, the arousal to build and build until it almost burst.

He clenched down on Potter’s fingers as he added a third. A stream of precum was leaking from his cock onto the bed.

“Ready?” Harry asked a bit breathlessly.

“Yes.” Draco groaned as Harry’s fingers went along his prostate. Harry rubbed him once more before gently pulling his fingers out. The bed dipped a bit as Harry adjusted, moving closer. His cock easily slipped in the first bit, then Harry pushed his way inside. Draco keened, arching his back into the steady thrust. He loved feeling full—loved having Harry inside him. Harry pulled back and thrust again. The steady slap of skin filled the room as well as the smell of sex. Draco clutched the sheets, staring out at the city below.

“Fuck Draco.” Harry moaned on a particularly rough thrust. His hands went down Draco’s torso, his body tingling. His cock was pulsing between his legs, so he reached one hand back. He made small movements, running his thumb over his slit. But he wanted it to last, so he didn’t try to bring himself off, “ _Christ_ you’re beautiful.”

Pleasure tingled through his body, but he wanted to get _closer_. He wanted more, “I want to see you.” Draco said. Harry leaned down over top of him and kissed across his shoulders as he slipped out of him, moving back as he did so. Draco turned around, got up on his knees and kissed Harry like he was a lifeline. His _taste_. It would never be enough. He gripped his arms until his fingers reached the bandage on his arm, so Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist instead. His fully naked skin pressed up against Harry was nearly too much. Draco pulled Harry’s hair, tilting his face up a bit more and pushing him back. Harry got the idea, sitting back on his knees.

Draco took Harry’s cock in his hand and stroked it a few times. His cock was nearly purple, jutting up toward his stomach. Precum bubbled up, and Draco used it to further lube Harry’s cock. He was _stunning_. Draco loved how his chest muscles rippled as he arched backward and thrust into Draco’s hand.

“ _Draco_.” Harry groaned. He couldn’t resist such a wanton plea. Draco scooted up Harry’s legs, taking Harry’s cock and guiding it back inside him. His chest pressed against Harry’s, and his cock was trapped between them. Draco cried out as he lowered himself. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s back, holding him as close as possible.

He loved the intimacy of this position. His legs straddling Harry’s, their chests pressed together. It was like every inch of skin possible was touching. Draco wound his fingers through Harry’s hair, pulling him into a sloppy kiss. Harry rocked into him, and the slight movement lit Draco up. Harry's cock brushed his prostate just as his cock rubbed against Harry’s stomach.

“ _Fuck_.” Draco’s voice was high pitched, muttered into Harry’s lips.

“Feels good?”

“Fuck yes.” Draco nearly sobbed, clenching his hand tightly as Harry thrust again. His entire body was wound tightly so that every bit of pleasure felt a thousand fold. He didn’t want it to end. He wanted to stay this close to Harry forever. Sweat dripped down his side burn and onto Harry’s shoulder. Draco looked down at their bodies pressed tightly together. There was not an inch of space between them. He rocked a bit more so his cock would rub harder against Harry’s stomach. Draco tried to pull Harry closer, arching his back to try to get him deeper.

“I’m gunna come.” Draco gasped as he said it. It was all about timing now. Harry’s thrust up as Draco sank down and then rolled his hips into Harry. It was small movements, but it was driving Draco _insane_. He was letting out a string of curse words with every movement, his cock getting even harder. He clawed at Harry, begging him to continue, “Please _please_ don’t stop. So fucking _close_.” Another small thrust and a move of his hips, Draco bit down on his lip and sobbed. He was on a knife’s edge, his chest caught.

“God, please come Draco.” Harry begged, “I want to see it. Draco come.” Harry encouraged. Harry thrust up hard, and Draco’s cock rubbed against Harry’s stomach in the most _delicious_ way.

“Fuck!” Draco screamed as he began to come. Pleasure seared through him as Harry continued to thrust into him. He fell back on the bed with Harry over him, who continued to thrust through his orgasm. His cock spurt all over his stomach, he could barely hear himself yelling over the pleasure. Harry’s thrusts became erratic just before he stopped moving, biting Draco’s shoulder a bit.

His kiss took Draco’s breath away. It was difficult to be aware of his surroundings as Harry kissed him, holding him tightly against his chest. His softening cock didn’t move from inside of him. Harry kissed his cheeks, his ears, and his nose—everywhere he could touch until he took his mouth again.

“Happy anniversary.” Harry whispered into his jaw, kissing it again, “I love you.”

“I fucking love you too.” Draco managed to say between deep breaths. Harry laughed breathlessly, but held him tight.

 

Draco awoke the next morning stiff all over. Harry had put him through the ringer, or maybe he had put himself through the ringer. They had eaten some bread, cheese, had a glass of wine and then ended up fucking on the floor. The rain had cleared to reveal a beautiful night sky, complete with twinkling stars over the city when Draco slid into Harry one last time before falling asleep.

He rolled over and saw Harry sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the beautiful city below. The sun was shining bright with blue skies. Harry had a cup of tea in his hand, blowing into it carefully to cool it off. Draco saw a few scratch marks on his back from the night before and couldn’t help his possessive grin. Harry had removed the bandage, the dragon curled around his bicep. Draco sat up, crawling over to Harry. He slid one leg on either side, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing his shoulder.

“Morning.” Draco whispered into Harry’s neck.

“Hm. Morning.” Harry used one hand to squeeze the arms wrapped around his stomach.

“He looks beautiful.” Draco said softly, touching the tattooed dragon. Harry turned a bit to look at him, his green eyes sparkling behind his glasses. It was an awkward kiss considering the angle, but it made Draco feel warm as he squeezed Harry tighter.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” Harry said.

“You’re a sap Potter.” Draco whispered, but kissed him anyway.

“But you love me anyway?”

“Always.” Draco swore, pressing another chaste kiss to his lips. Harry grinned at him in the careless brilliant way that made Draco’s insides flutter, even after all this time. He wove his fingers of his left hand with Harry’s. The two of them, together.

“Always.” Harry whispered back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *French is curtesy of google translate. Sorry if it sounds robotic...it's cause it was a robot that gave me the translations. 
> 
> Come say Hi on tumblr. I'm sad this story is over so I need friends to dry my tears.   
> [ Click here to say hello ](caedes.tumblr.com)


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